Welcome to the Jungle
by Muffy Morrigan
Summary: Sam and Dean agree to help an old friend of their father's stop whatever is killing and mutilating hikers in a Northwest Wilderness Area. As evil makes itself known, the brothers go from hunters to prey. HURT!Sam protective angsty Dean COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: March 3 is my beta Abni's birthday. After some carefully innocent questions I discovered she would like a story in the wild with a little hurt Sam and an interesting hunt. Here it is, and I promise no weird horsies, no descent into weirdness. Just a nice hunt and some hurt here and there. I can't promise that Dean won't get a little hurt along the way…but I will try and keep that under control. Thanks much to TraSan and Dennis for reading and correcting. Any mistakes remaining are solely mine! This story is set sometime during season one. Title comes from the song._

**Welcome to the Jungle**

**Chapter One**

The smell of fresh coffee wound itself into Sam's brain. The scent woke him from a sound sleep. He shifted around, trying to get comfortable, trying to ignore the huge lump under his hip. He punched at what was passing for a pillow under his head and burrowed deeper into the warmth of the lumpy bed. He sighed as he moved around, knowing there was really no way to avoid getting up.

"Sammy! Rise and shine." Dean emphasized the statement with a quick kick on the side of the tent. Sam groaned. "Come on, Sammy, time's awastin'."

"Go away," Sam grumbled as Dean kicked the tent again. "Five minutes, Dean," he said a little louder.

"Five, okay, no more." Dean's voice was light, full of laughter. _And that is getting a little more than annoying, Dean, you know._

Sam rolled over on his back and looked at the ceiling of the small hiker's tent. _Five days…_He sighed again. A week and a half before, Drew Martin, a friend of their father's had called. He was steward over a wilderness area and people were disappearing. He suspected it was a sasquatch, not a bear as the press had it. He had wanted John, he got Sam and Dean. They had arrived at the ranger station seven days before and Drew had run them through all the information he had on the hikers, where they had disappeared and any evidence he had found. After a comfortable day at Drew's they had headed out, weighed down by new equipment and directions into the wilderness area. They were four days from the trailhead and camping was beginning to wear on Sam. And Dean…? When they set out Sam had expected grumbles, complaints and all the other things that generally accompanied him on excursions into the wilds with his brother. What he got he had never seen coming. Not in a million years. Dean was…Well…

"Come on, bacon's cooking, up and out or I take the tent down around you." Dean kicked the tent hard enough to connect with him that time.

No, never in a million years had he expected…well…the only word he could think of was chipper. Although perky and chirpingly cheerful also came to mind. And it was beginning to terrify Sam. Dean was up early, happily doing camping things that Sam knew he loathed and seemingly having a great time looking for the sasquatch. They'd been following the trail for two days now and had found a shoe, a bloody coat and one or two other items that let them know they were on the right track. Dean was ecstatic, following the trail like a happy bloodhound.

Sam groaned and rolled out of his sleeping bag, taking time to deflate the pillow and roll up the bag before dragging himself out of the tent. Dean grinned at him as Sam stood up, trying to stretch out bruises caused by sleeping on at least several hundred sharp stones. He blinked up at the sun, still low in the sky. "What time it is?"

Dean shrugged. "Around seven I think."

"Seven? Dean?"

"What?" Dean looked up from what he was doing.

"Nothing." Sam walked over to the water bucket and splashed icy water on his face, hoping it would do something about the cobwebs that had formed in his head sometime between the end of his watch at three and Dean's first cheerful chirp. He took the cup Dean handed him and sank down on a large rock by the small fire. Dean was frying bacon, the rich scent blending with the coffee and the smell of the river and trees, making Sam's stomach rumble a little. He sighed.

"Looks like it might be a nice day," Dean said with a smile as he put food on a plate and handed it to Sam.

"It'll probably rain later." _It has every day. Every single day. Rain in the afternoon. Every day._

"That's why I thought we'd get going a little earlier today, beat the rain, get our day in before it starts. I was thinking of making camp up by those caves Drew told us about."

"How far is that from here?" Sam asked, his mood was beginning to improve as he ate.

"I'm not really sure, a day's walk if I'm reading the GPS right." Dean grinned. It was part of a large package of what he termed "toys" Drew had loaned them for the trip. Dean was having more fun with the collection of gadgets than anyone had a right to. His favorite seemed to be the walkie talkies and he had driven Sam nearly insane with his "Agent Dean to Agent Sam" or "Over and out" or other lingo he had picked up watching too many bad films late at night. If Sam didn't answer correctly Dean would patiently explain why he had to say "over and out" or something similar. "Check it out, Sammy." Dean pulled what looked like a gun stock out of a bucket of water.

"What?" Sam sighed. _I was wrong, that's his favorite. And if he says…_

"Waterproof, it really is waterproof." Dean opened the stock and happily assembled the rifle. "Can't beat it! Henry US Survival model. Can't freaking beat it."

"Yeah, you've said that." _About twelve thousand times. _Sam watched as his brother pulled the gun apart and stored it all back in the stock. _Every morning, every evening, every day. _

"The Texas Rangers used Henry Rifles, Sammy," Dean said sadly, with a shake of his head at the lack of interest his brother had shown in the subject. It was one small piece of history he knew and liked sharing with Sam.

"Yeah, you've said that too, Dean."

Dean just laughed at him, finished his breakfast and set about breaking camp. Sam was impressed with the speed Dean tore everything down and stowed it. Since their last trip into the woods, Dean seemed to have improved his camping skills, although how Sam had no idea. Dean had everything ready to go fifteen minutes later, humming as he secured the straps on Sam's pack. "Ready?"

"Yeah." Sam pushed himself up off the rock and picked up the pack.

Dean swung his own pack onto his back and headed up the trail. As they walked Sam could hear the burble of a stream to his left. They'd camped beside the brook two nights before, a little lower in the valley. The sound had accompanied them as they walked deeper into the woods. It was a popular hikers' area in the summer, but even in the cold and damp of early spring hikers did head into the wilderness area for weekend trips or other activities. Drew had told them there was a lot of poaching and illegal fishing in the area in the early spring and summer. He thought the poaching might have something to do with the activity of the sasquatch. He had found evidence of at least one human and three elk bodies about three days closer to civilization.

"Sam?" Dean called from in front of him. Sam quickened his pace to catch up with his brother. _I should focus a little more. If I trip over a root again, Dean will never let me live it down._

"What?"

"Found something." Dean's voice sounded off somehow.

Sam caught up with his brother and stood beside him, looking down at the pulpy mess just off the trail. Large footprint surrounded the mass. Sam could make out what looked like a human skull and what was left of the haunch of a deer. He looked over at Dean, his brother gave him a wan smile. "Do we bury or burn?" Sam asked.

Dean thought about it for a minute. "Bury." He dropped his pack to the ground and pulled out a shovel. "We can burn on the way back. This looks fresh, so the sooner we are on our way the better," Dean said as he started digging. Sam pulled out his shovel and they had everything in the ground in less than half an hour.

Dean started out again. Sam dropped back a little, scanning the area off the trail for more evidence of the creature. He knew Dean would keep an eye ahead. They had established the pattern over the last few days and it seemed to work well.

"Heading left, thirty minutes," Dean called from up the trail.

"Okay, thirty," Sam answered. When he reached the fork in the trail, he headed right. The trail dipped off the hill heading into a stand of aspen. The stark white trunks stood out against the surrounding forest, the few dead leaves looking like forgotten Christmas ornaments. As he reached the center of the stand, Sam noticed a large footprint and another, leading into the trees. He pulled the walkie talkie off his belt. "Dean? I found footprints down here, I'm going to investigate. They're off the trail to the right."

"Check back in five minutes, Sam." There was a pause. "Over."

"I'll check back." Sam waited for what he knew was coming.

"You're supposed to say over. Over."

"Bite me."

"That works, over and out," Dean said, Sam could hear the chuckle as his brother broke the connection.

He shook his head and walked off the path following the trail of footprints. _Dean is enjoying himself. Way too much. _Sam grinned to himself. He was still smiling when he noticed a bloody mark on one tree, the red standing out against the white of the trunk. Two trees further there was another red stripe marring the bone-white bark. The next mark was lower down on the tree. It was a hand print, like someone had grabbed the tree. Sam crouched down to get a better look, fingernails had scored the bark. _Whoever it was, they had a big hand. _Sam held his hand over the mark, trying to get an idea of the size of the person who had left it. _Big, bigger than me. _

"Sam?" The walkie talkie crackled to life.

"Yeah?" Sam noticed his brother didn't bother with "over" when he was worried, and Sam could hear concern in his brother's voice.

"You were supposed to check back in five minutes."

"Sorry, following something, there are marks on the trees down here."

"Stay put, I'll head that way."

"The trail I'm following is swinging back up the hill." Sam paused, looking around. "I think it will bring me up to the trail you were following."

There was a long pause. Sam could picture his brother, a little frown on his face as he weighed the advantages of continuing what he was doing against the urge to catch up with Sam to keep an eye on him. "Okay. I'll keep an eye out for you. If you're not up here in twenty minutes I'll head down towards you. Over."

"Okay." Sam wondered if he should tell Dean what kind of trail he was following. _No, he'd change his mind and come charging down here. _"Over and out," he said.

"Good job. Be careful, Sam. Over and out," Dean added with a chuckle. Sam could almost hear the smirk on his brother's face.

Sam turned back to the trail. It was a faint game path that wound through the aspen and then up the hill. Several gnarled trees stood in a small clearing. Their twisted trunks gave the trees an ancient, almost sinister look. From somewhere in the back of his mind came an identification—fruit trees of some kind. He followed the path further. No more bloody marks appeared on the trees or bushes along the trail.

Sam had nearly decided to turn back—the track was going through a stand of wild roses and they were beginning to do a lot of damage—when he noticed more of the large footprints. There was a large muddy spot on the trail and he stopped to look at the collection of prints that were there. Deer, elk, the small handprints of a raccoon, something larger looking almost like a child's footprint, birds. It was the prints at the far edge of the mud that caught his eye. They looked human. Several were large, bigger than Sam's foot. _And that's to be expected when hunting saquatches. _That wasn't what had stopped him. It was the fact that there were a lot of prints, some large, some about the size of his foot and one smaller. He pulled the walkie talkie off his belt. "Dean?"

"Yeah, over?"

"I found something I think you should see." Sam stood looking up the game trail. "I'm down a small path, there's a lightning struck tree at the crest of the hill."

"Got it, I'm almost there, over."

"Thanks."

"Sammy, come on, over," Dean said with a whine in his voice. It was the tone he had used for years to get his brother to play when Sam was otherwise occupied. It always worked.

"Okay, Dean. Over and out."

Sam took his pack off and set it carefully on a log and wandered over to the collection of prints. Glancing into the bushes he could see where the plants had been broken by the passage of something large. Branches were bent, one bush completely crushed. He took a step to follow the line of broken vegetation when Dean's voice stopped him.

"What the hell?" Dean sounded annoyed.

Sam turned back. "Yeah, could it be a family group?"

"Do they have families?" Dean asked, squatting down to look at the prints.

"Can you think of another explanation?"

"Not off the top of my head. Looks like they went that way." Dean pointed to the trail of broken plants. He picked up Sam's pack. "I know they're a pain in the ass, but I don't want to get caught without."

"It'll be hard getting through the undergrowth," Sam said as he swung his pack onto his back.

"Doesn't matter, never again," Dean said.

Sam took the lead, keeping his eyes ahead, watching the trees for bloody prints or claw marks. They passed one tree that had the bark pulled partially off by sharp claws. Dean stopped to look at it, Sam shrugged and they moved off again. They were both quiet, moving as silently as possible through the brush. The trail they were following turned, heading down the hill towards the stream. Sam was so intent he didn't see the root that caught his foot. He tripped, going down hard.

It was the fall that saved his life.

He heard Dean shout his name as he fell and something impacted on his head. He saw stars, the blow dazed him. He struggled a little to push himself up, but Dean had grabbed his ankles and was pulling him down the trail. "Stay down," Dean shouted. Sam obeyed automatically. Sam was still dazed, more unconscious than aware when he felt Dean's hand on the back of his head.

"Sam?" Dean's voice was anxious. "You there?"

"Yeah," he groaned. His head was pounding and something warm was flowing down his neck and across his face.

"Hold still." Dean's hands pressed against his head. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Just checking. Can you sit up? I'll help, just ease over a little, okay?"

"Yeah," Sam tried to push himself up, but a wave of dizziness hit him in the same instant as breakfast made itself known. He did manage to get up onto his hands and knees before the food reappeared. He felt Dean's hand on his back. When he was finished Dean helped him sit, holding him with one hand while he tugged the pack off with the other. Sam blinked trying to focus on his brother. "What happened?" he asked, lifting his hand to feel the back of his head.

"Stop that." Dean swatted his hand down. "It's nothing, just let me take care of it so you don't ruin Drew's pack."

"That bad?" Sam knew the tone and the voice. Dean and their father could both manage it. It was the "there is nothing to panic about, you are supposed to have a hole that big in your…fill in the body part" tone. It never calmed Sam down, never once. _In fact, it has the opposite effect most of the time. _

"Just a scratch, Sammy," Dean said, the white face and slightly trembling hands giving lie to words.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Dean took off his pack and pulled out the first-aid kit. Sam watched as he fished out an assortment of bandages and…

"I thought you said it was just a scratch,' Sam said, looking at Dean.

"It is."

"And the suture is for…?"

"Your jacket. It got a little torn," Dean said with a half-hearted smile.

"Oh, thanks." Sam let his eyes drift closed as Dean worked on him. His head was pounding, so much so that the stitches Dean was carefully putting in his scalp seemed a minor annoyance.

"All fixed. How're you feeling?" Dean said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Sam opened his eyes. "Great. What happened?"

"That." Dean pointed at something hanging over the path. It looked like a small log embedded with something was swinging there. Dean stood up and walked to the object. He looked at it for a minute, then cut it down and dragged it over for Sam to see. Sam looked down.

"What the…?"

"Yep," Dean said, grimly. The small log was embedded with glistening bits of stone, all razor-sharp. "Since when did sasquatches learn to do that?"

"I…" Sam looked up and met his brother's eyes. "I don't think they can."

Dean dropped down beside Sam and pulled his water bottle out. He fished in the first-aid pack and came up with a package of Tylenol. Dean handed it to Sam. "Take it, it might help."

"Thanks." Sam leaned against his brother a little. As he looked down at the log he realized his hands were shaking.

"Close," Dean said, his voice trembled a little. "Good thing you planned ahead to fall on your face."

"Yeah." Sam nudged Dean with his shoulder. "I'm okay."

"I never saw that coming, Sam. I'm sorry."

"Are you apologizing because…never mind." Sam shook his head. "So, survivalists? Hunters?"

"I don't know. Whoever it is…" Dean trailed off. "We have to be more careful from now on." Dean pushed himself up. "Think you can go a little further? I don't think we can make it all the way to the caves tonight, but I spotted a nice place to camp up on that other trail."

Sam took the hand Dean offered and stood, swaying a little as the world spun around him. "Let's try for the caves. We can always stop sooner." _If you say we'll head for the caves, Dean, it means I'm not that badly hurt, if you say no then…_ Dean looked at him for a minute, a frown on his face. Sam knew his brother was looking for any sign of discomfort, dizziness or anything else that might qualify as a reason to slow down and stop early. Sam schooled his features as best he could. Dean's frown deepened, then he sighed.

"Okay, we'll head for the caves." Dean swung his pack up and then picked up Sam's.

"I can carry that." Sam stuck his hand out for the pack. Dean shook his head and helped him get it on his back. "Thanks." Sam turned to continue on the trail. Dean grabbed his arm and pointed back the way they came. Sam shrugged. _I got him to head for the caves and let me carry my own pack, more than that would have been a miracle. _Dean waited until Sam stepped ahead of him and then followed him up the trail.

**XXX**

The sun was starting to drop in the sky. The rain that had been threatening all day had not come and it was nearly warm in the patches of sunlight that dappled the trail. The shadows were cold, the darkness under the trees pulling the warmth from the day. Birds danced in the bushes, merrily singing as they looked for food.

Dean kept one eye on the edge of the trail looking for any evidence of the sasquatch, and one eye on Sam walking ahead of him on the trail. His brother had gotten increasingly quiet as the day went on. He winced as Sam stumbled. The memory of his brother's earlier fall was suddenly before him again. It replayed with amazing frequency. _I was thinking about…hmm…what was her name? And then he fell. _Dean swallowed as the vision of the log swinging down on his brother ran through his head again. _If he didn't have the pack on, if he hadn't fallen, it would have killed him. I didn't see it coming. I wasn't watching for it. Dad would kick my ass if he knew something like that happened. _Dean sighed.

Sam stumbled again. _Not letting it pass this time, Sammy. _Dean hurried to catch up with his brother. Dean grabbed Sam's arm to stop him. Sam looked up at him in surprise. _Running on autopilot there? _Dean looked at his brother. Sam was pale, he was sweating. "Sam?"

"I'm okay, Dean."

Dean put a hand on his brother's forehead. It was clammy and cool. He looked around. They were still a good distance from the caves, but they had reached an open area with a large overhang of stone on one side of it. The black rock hugged the hillside, flowing over the top and down into the small valley. The overhang looked like the remnant of a long-ago bubble formed as lava oozed over the landscape. Dean pulled Sam towards it. His brother stumbled blindly along behind him. When they got under cover, Dean pulled Sam's pack off and pushed him down on the ground. Sam tried to protest. "Shut up, Sammy."

The rock shelter was big enough to pitch their tent in and it provided the added cover of stone in case it started raining in the night. _It also gives me something at my back. _Dean had to admit he had been jumpy since Sam's narrow escape. Someone was setting traps in the woods and it made Dean nervous. Now that he was looking for it, he'd noticed traces of at least three other traps, all sprung, but all there nonetheless.

Dean began setting up camp, he hadn't mentioned it to Sam, but he planned to stay there the next day, scouting around the area. _I need to know Sam is okay before we head back. _He'd also decided that no matter what his brother said, they were heading back to civilization the day after that. _It'll take us a little longer to walk out, but I think once we drop into the lower valley the cell phone will work. That shouldn't take more than three days. _The vision of Sam prone on the trail, blood pouring from his scalp, played in front of Dean's eyes again. He stopped for a minute to calm the shaking of his hands. _He's okay, it's just a few stitches. He's okay._

"What do you want for dinner?" Dean asked Sam. His brother opened his eyes and looked at him.

"Dinner?" Sam's voice sounded a little confused.

"Sammy?" Dean walked over to look in his brother's eyes. The pupils were the same size, he put his hand on Sam's forehead, it seemed warm to the touch, but he wasn't sure. The evening was rapidly cooling off without cloud cover to hold the heat of the day in. "Yeah, dinner."

"Pizza?" Sam said with a laugh.

"Sorry. No pizza. How about hash?" Dean took Sam's shrug as an affirmative.

The fire warmed the rock shelter. Dean had peeled off his jacket by the time dinner was ready. Sam had grown quiet again as Dean cooked, watching without comment as he made dinner. Dean scooped out a serving for both of them and settled down beside Sam, leaning against the wall behind them. "Eat up." He handed the plate to Sam. His brother took it mechanically and, with stiff movements, started to eat. Dean watched him with growing concern. _Something's wrong. The spidey-sense is tingling. _

"My head just hurts, Dean," Sam said, apparently reading his mind.

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Sam sighed and set his plate down beside him. "I might be a little sick to my stomach, too," he added with a rueful grin.

"Head wounds can do that."

"You've had enough to know." Sam jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. "I'm surprised they even worry about brain damage with you. Everything there is either damaged or impervious."

"Impervious?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "Thanks." He laughed, relief coloring the sound.

Sam pushed himself up, keeping a hand on the wall for a moment. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" Dean stood as well.

"Where do you think, Dean?" Sam frowned at him.

"What? Oh. Okay, well be careful." Dean looked beyond the light of the fire into the dark stands of trees around them. Night had fallen and there was no moon. It was almost pitch black, just the smallest light from the stars and the Milky Way lit the forest. "Maybe I should come," he said tucking the .45 in his waistband and picking up the assembled Henry Rifle.

"Dean? I'm just going to…well…I don't need an armed escort and I would like a little privacy."

"Okay, but take the walkie talkie," Dean said, turning it on and handing it to him. It garnered him one of the largest eye rolls he'd ever seen from his brother. Sam swayed a little. "Teach you to do that with a head wound." Dean smirked at him.

Sam grumbled something under his breath and headed out into the trees. After a few minutes of silence Dean couldn't stand it anymore. "You okay?" he shouted.

"Fine, Dean," the annoyed call came back.

Dean settled back down, still listening for the return of his brother. "Sam?"

"Privacy, Dean?"

"Right, fine. Hurry." Dean paced back and forth, the length of the shelter. From the corner where he had pitched camp to the edge Sam had walked out of and back. Something caught his eye. He walked back over to the camp and picked up a flashlight, shining it on the wall he took a better look at what was there. A drawing, he couldn't tell how old, red against the black of the rock. He'd noticed some pictographs earlier. _Mostly the usual thing. Deer, wavy lines, other animals. _He'd seen them off and on for the last five days. This drawing was different. It was a group of what he at first took to be people. When he noticed that one of them was holding a human skull, dwarfed by its hands he changed his mind. _Creatures, sasquatch? But I didn't know they ran in packs. I'll have to ask Sam when he gets back, thinking of that…_"Sammy?"

"Coming, Dean." The irritation was palpable in his brother's voice. Dean grinned.

A sharp crack split the soft sounds of the night. A chorus of frogs was silenced as if a switch had been shut off. It was the next sound that had Dean moving.

Sam screamed.

"Sam?" Dean yelled, running towards the stand of trees his brother had disappeared into. "Sam!" No answer. "SAMMY!" He barreled into the trees, frantically swinging the flashlight back and forth.

"Dean?"

"Where are you?" Sam didn't answer. "Sammy, answer me, where are you?"

"In trouble," came the soft reply.

_**To Be Continued**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Welcome to the Jungle**

**Chapter Two**

The flashlight cast eerie shadows in the trees, creating movement where there wasn't any, making the shadows seem even darker than they were. Dean plowed into the stand of trees, not paying attention to anything but the soft sound of his brother's ragged breathing. He'd zeroed in on the sound and was crashing through the bushes to reach his brother. "Sam!" he called again. His brother's comment that he was in trouble had inspired blind panic in Dean. Sam knew better than to say something like that unless it was serious, and judging from the pained gasps filtering through the dark trees, it was serious. "Sam!"

"Here."

Dean pointed the flashlight in the direction of his brother's voice and froze for half a second as the light played over Sam. His brother was pressed against a large boulder, what looked like a small tree casting a dark stripe across Sam's body. Dean ran. Sam's hands were around the sapling, arms straining to keep it from driving the sharpened point deeper into his shoulder.

"Hang on," Dean said, dropping the flashlight.

"Yeah," Sam said, arms visibly straining and sweat pouring from his face. Blood was welling up where the tree was pressing into his body.

Dean grabbed the tree and tried to pull it out of Sam's shoulder. It moved a little and Sam cried out in pain. "Okay, let me try something different. As soon as it moves, you roll." Sam nodded and Dean crouched down and got under the tree. "Ready? One, two, three." He pushed up and the sapling moved. Sam rolled to the side. Dean dropped out from under the tree and the sapling crashed into the rock with terrifying force.

Dean grabbed Sam and turned him over, reaching for the flashlight with one hand. "Sam?" he said as he brought the light to bear on Sam's shoulder. "Not bad, Sammy."

"You always say that," Sam said with a pained smile.

"Let's get you back to camp." Dean hauled his brother up and pulled his arm over his shoulder. He felt Sam take a breath to protest the extra help. "Sam?" Dean said sternly and his brother's breath was exhaled in a soft sigh. Dean maneuvered them back into the shelter and set Sam down beside the fire before grabbing the first-aid kit. Sam had pulled his jacket and shirt off by the time Dean turned back to him.

It was an ugly wound. _It could have been a lot worse. _Dean shone the light to get a better look. Bits of bark and dirt had been pressed deep into the hole. He smiled at Sam. His brother smiled back and shook his head. _Okay, I won't say it's nothing, Sammy. _"I think I should wash it out, I'm going to boil some water." Dean pulled out a pot and poured water into the pan and put it in the fire. He waited for it to boil before adding some salt.

"This will sting, right?" Sam said with a half smile.

"That's what they always say at the ER. This will sting." Dean pulled a sterile sponge out of the first-aid kit. "Remember that time you were, what, about fifteen and you had that stick through your foot?"

Sam closed his eyes as Dean started to pour the water over the wound. "And you tried to pull it out, but it hurt and I couldn't hold still."

"Yeah, and so I took you to that clinic next to the hotel." Dean continued pouring the water into the wound, hoping to float out all the dirt and bark. Sam was trembling, his teeth were clenched. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Sam said, grinding his teeth together. "They took me back to the exam room and the doctor came in with what looked like pliers, said it would sting a little and started tugging on the stick. Damn."

"Sorry," Dean repeated. "Almost done."

Sam nodded and smiled a little. "I was trying not to scream…"

"You were screaming."

"I was trying not to scream and the doctor was pulling on the thing and you were holding me down."

"I was trying not to deck the doc." Dean said as he poured the last of the water over the wound and began dabbing at it with the sponge.

"Yeah." Sam sighed as Dean finished with the water. "But he got it out."

"He did," Dean said, absently, remembering trying to hold Sam down as a particularly brutal doctor pulled the stick from his brother's foot. "Just pulled it right out." _Without numbing the foot or anything._

"I might have screamed a little." Sam smiled at him.

"I might have hit the doctor a little." Dean smiled back.

"How bad is it?" Sam asked.

"Not as bad as I thought," Dean said truthfully.

"Bad?" Sam craned his neck trying to get a good look at the wound in his shoulder.

"A little. It's deep." Dean carefully bandaged the wound. "I think I got everything out of it, Sammy."

"Thanks," Sam leaned back against the rock wall with a sigh. Dean got up and dug a shirt out of Sam's pack and brought it back to his brother. Sam smiled as he tried to get it on, his left arm wasn't working well and Dean helped him in the end. After Sam's jacket was tucked around him Dean handed him more Tylenol.

"I'm going to make some coffee," Dean said, grabbing the coffee pot. His hands were shaking. _Close, twice today. Too damn close. What the hell is going on? _"Do you want to lie down in the tent?" Dean asked, glancing over at Sam.

"Can I just sleep by the fire with you?" Sam said softly. Dean looked up at his brother, Sam's face was pale, he was frowning a little in pain.

"Sure, let me get your stuff." Dean dragged the sleeping bag out and put the pad down by the fire before helping Sam get settled. After he was done he poured them both coffee, adding hot cocoa to the cups before sitting down beside Sam. "Do you need something more for pain?" Dean was hesitant about giving his brother something stronger than just the Tylenol. He had some narcotics in the kit and the shoulder had to hurt, but there was still the earlier head wound to worry about.

"Not right now," Sam said. "This is good."

"Camp mocha," Dean said with a smile. "My own invention."

"I'm sure a lot of people add hot chocolate to their coffee, Dean," Sam chided.

"Maybe, but I'm taking credit for it." Dean grinned as he leaned against the wall. The .45 was laying beside his right hand and the rifle was across his lap.

"Next time you should come with me." Sam's voice was rueful. "Privacy or not."

"What happened?" Dean asked after a long moment of silence.

"I was walking out of there and something snagged my foot. I tugged on it about the same instant I thought it could be a trap. Whatever it was snapped down on me. I tried to hold it off."

"Yeah," Dean sighed. "So back to the question—sasquatches learned to do that when?"

"I don't think they set traps Dean. That's more like a, I don't know, a wendigo? But no…" Sam was thoughtful. "Hunters? Survivalists? I think we are back to that."

"But why? Some fruitcake is out booby trapping the wilderness?"

"Where people are disappearing?" Sam added.

"You think it's related?" Dean looked at his brother. "Hunting the sasquatch?"

Sam nodded slowly. "Could be. The trap I triggered earlier, if you fell, like I did, it wasn't fatal. This one too, if you were fairly tall…" He ginned at Dean. "It wounded, it would have pinned me, but it wouldn't have killed me. Of course if I were shorter…"

"Ha, ha, Sammy." Dean nudged him carefully with his shoulder. "So you think they are traps to wound or maim, but not to kill for some reason?"

"Leave the sasquatch alive?" Sam said. Dean could see the wheels turning in his brother's mind as he thought about it. "Could be."

"Maybe they are trying to protect themselves…or…stop them from whatever they are doing? You know jungle traps, like in 'The Green Berets' or something."

"Yeah." Sam sighed. "I think I need to sleep."

"Yep." Dean took the cup from his brother's hand. Sam lay down and was asleep before Dean finished his coffee.

He poured himself another cup and edged out of the fire light a little, letting his eyes adjust to the dark beyond their shelter. Dean had to admit to himself he was happy Sam had decided to sleep by the fire, he could keep an eye on him better there. A branch snapped in the darkness. Dean held his breath, listening. Something was moving through the trees where Sam had been hurt. A shift in the wind brought a musky smell to Dean. _Deer, or maybe elk. Definitely animal, definitely moving on four legs. _He walked to the edge of the shelter, down by the pictographs, to look out into the dark. Dean caught the movement as the deer walked through the trees, ghosting silently along except for that one snapped twig.

Dean walked back to the fire, threw another branch on it and checked on Sam. His brother was shivering a little. Dean unzipped his sleeping bag and tossed it over Sam before pacing back to the far side if the shelter again. _It's going to be a long night. What's going on? Crazy sasquatch hunters? That's all I need. Amateurs. _He sighed. _They can screw something up faster than anything. _Dean walked back to the other side, checked on Sam and poured the last of the coffee into his cup. After a final trip around the shelter he sat down by Sam, close enough to benefit from the warmth of the fire, far enough away to let his eyes stay adjusted to the dark.

Dean sighed and looked over at his brother. The fire was lighting Sam's face, Dean could see that his cheeks were a little red. _From the fire, I hope. Not fever. It should be too early for fever. _As he watched the light playing on his brother's face he smiled. It was a gentle, affectionate smile, one he would never show his brother when he was awake. _He would tease me about the chick flick look for, hmm, knowing Sammy? The rest of my life and beyond. _

He got up silently and started another pot of coffee, as it cooked on the fire he finished off the hash. The smell of coffee blended with the scent of the forest and he sighed. _I would never admit this to anyone, but I missed this. I missed being out in the woods. I've hated camping for so long because of…_He stopped himself, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. _I almost lost Sam. I blamed camping. Then with the wendigo, well that didn't go well. _The coffee had finished and he poured another cup for himself before sitting back down beside his brother. He pulled the sleeping bag a little more over Sam's shoulder, brushing his brother's forehead to make sure he wasn't overly warm.

Dean leaned against the rock and looked out into the night. He saw something else moving out there, small. A sudden yip identified the creature. _Coyote. _Sipping his coffee he let the quiet fill him, listening to the soft sounds of the night and the wind whispering through the leafless aspen trees sounding like running water. Dean sighed. _Yep, missed this. Hated this. _He looked over at Sam. _Traps. Who and why?_ Dean shifted, his hand dropping to the gun lying beside him.

The night gradually got quieter as the creatures of evening disappeared and the creatures of the dark of night had not yet begun to hunt. Off in the distance Dean heard an odd coughing bark. Dredging up a memory, he thought it might be a bear. Something about the grunting cough sounded familiar.

He froze. He'd heard it before.

**Past**

The fire was popping and cracking. The sun had set, but the forest wasn't dark yet, the light bark of the aspen and cottonwoods seemed brighter in the evening light. The wind was blowing gently and over the sounds of the wind, the merry babbling of a stream filled the small campsite. Dean was humming as he cooked dinner. Sam had wandered down to the stream to fill the coffee pot. Dean kept an eye on his brother. At nearly seventeen Sam had still not quite learned to be graceful with his height, and Dean had to keep himself from laughing as his brother caught a large foot on a root on his way back to camp.

"Didn't spill, good job, Sammy," he grinned at his brother, knowing what was coming.

"Sam. It's Sam, Dean."

"Right." Dean checked the trout in the pan. "Dinner's served, Sammy." His brother rolled his eyes. He put the food on plates and sat down beside Sam, their backs against a large fallen tree. Dean had chosen the site partially because of the tree, the prevailing wind blew from that direction and the huge trunk blocked some of the breeze.

"When do we meet up with dad?" Sam asked a little wistfully.

"Still a couple of days." Dean smiled. He was enjoying the freedom the trip was providing and was not looking forward to meeting up with their father just yet either. "I've missed camping."

"Me, too." Sam smiled at him. "Although I found out in school? Most people go camping just to camp."

"Not to hunt?" Dean grinned.

"Well, at least not to hunt what we hunt."

"We aren't hunting that hard, Sam." It was true. Over the last five days he and his brother had spent most of their time fishing and wandering along the trails looking for signs of what had caused the disappearance of eight hikers, but John had taken the area where most of the disappearances had occurred and sent Sam and Dean up a smaller valley.

"We aren't are we?" Sam put his empty plate down.

"Nope." Dean grabbed his brother's plate and got them each more food. "Tomorrow I thought we'd head up that side trail we spotted today."

"Sounds good. I'll take first watch tonight." Sam always volunteered, even though he knew he had no choice. Dean took the graveyard watch. Sam had bucked against the arrangements when they first started out, but he was resigned to the assignment now.

"Good." Dean stood and stretched. "I'll be back." He walked out of camp and a little upwind. After he had finished he wandered down to the stream to rinse his hands. Evening was fading into night, the long twilight nearly gone. A deer looked at him curiously from the other side of the stream. Dean smiled, waiting for it to catch his scent and run. He could hear a coyote yipping off to his left, the sound joined by another as they started their evening hunt.

As he stood to head back to camp something caught his eye. A large footprint was pressed into the dried mud by the stream. He pulled his flashlight out of his pocket to get a better look at it. "Sam?"

"Yeah?" his brother answered immediately.

"You see this footprint down here?" Dean called back.

He heard Sam approaching. "What footprint?" Sam stopped beside him. "No, I missed that. I was a little further upstream."

"What do you think? Sasquatch?"

"It's big enough," Sam said, squatting down to get a better look at it.

"Unless you were running barefoot through the mud."

"Ha, ha, Dean." Sam stood. "Could that be what's taking the hikers?"

"Maybe. Whatever it is, we take extra pains with watch tonight. No dozing," he said sternly as they walked back to the camp.

"I don't. I read," Sam snapped.

"Right. At least you have the decency to carry your own books." Dean looked at him. "You going to be okay?"

"I don't think tonight will be different from the last five, Dean." Sam dug his book out of his pack and settled down beside the fire with the shotgun beside him.

"Wake me at one." Dean crawled into the tent and was asleep before his brother answered.

"Dean." Sam was shaking him.

"Go away, not time yet," he muttered.

"I heard something." The urgency in Sam's voice pulled Dean into instant awareness.

"What?" he said, sitting up and grabbing his gun, knowing Sam wouldn't wake him on a whim.

"Something's moving around out there." Sam backed out of the tent, Dean followed. "Something on two legs," he finished.

As he stood up from the tent he heard it. Something—someone he amended—was walking in the stand of cottonwoods by the street. The heavy footfalls were loud in the silence of the dark. Dean moved towards the sound, aware of Sam following. He turned to motion his brother back towards camp when Sam suddenly dove towards him. Dean hit the ground as a large _thunk_ sounded over his head.

"What the hell, Sammy?" Dean shoved at his brother.

Sam rolled off him. "Are you okay?" Sam looked a little wild, fear making his face a white oval in the light of the fire.

"Sam?" Dean looked over his brother's shoulder. "What's that?"

"I saw it coming," Sam said.

Dean stood and walked to the log and looked at the…_What is that? A spear? It looks like a spear…_stuck in the log. "Thanks." He looked at his brother. Sam was visibly shaking. "I'm okay, Sam." Whatever had been in the trees was gone. Dean stepped out of the camp and stood listening for a long time, waiting to hear the snap of a branch or the intake of a breath. Nothing. The forest was silent except for the stream and an owl calling from a tree overhead. Dean walked back to the fire.

"I'm not going back to sleep after that, why don't you turn in?" Dean sat down at the edge of the firelight.

"I'll sleep out here, if it's okay," Sam said, dragging his sleeping bag to the fire.

"Sure," Dean said. Sam was snoring softly several minutes later. Dean sat and listened to the sounds of the night. The peace of the forest had stilled the shaking of his hands. _What the hell is going on? Footprints and now spears? Maybe it's just some freak out hunting in the woods. "The Most Dangerous Game" or some shit like that. Great, all we need. Tomorrow we head out early. _He'd been sitting by the fire for an hour when he heard something in the distance. It had a coughing sound, a bark to it. He thought it must be the hunting call of some animal, out in the night. He'd never heard it before.

Dawn finally came. Dean was dozing by the fire as the sun broke over the trees. Sam stirred beside him and Dean snapped his eyes open. "I'm awake," he said.

"Right," his brother said as he sat up.

"Let's get moving early, Sammy."

"Sam."

"I'll make coffee." Dean stood and headed towards the stream. There were new footprints on the path to the stream. The large footprint was joined by another nearly as big. Dean looked along the line of prints. After filling the pot he turned back towards camp. The footprints led into the stand of trees. _How long were they out there?_ He was beginning to feel a little knot of tension at the back of his neck. Something was going on, something he didn't like.

Sam had bacon frying by the time he got back. Dean made coffee and they ate together in companionable silence. They broke camp half an hour later, packing up and heading up the valley. Dean noticed several of the large footprints as they walked. By noon the footprints had disappeared and the sense of tension had dissipated and he was amusing himself by teasing his brother. Sam was playing along and they were laughing as they moved along the trail.

Dean crested a small hill when a sound behind him stopped him dead in his tracks. He had turned and was running back towards Sam before his brain caught up with his body. "Sam!" The trail was empty. "SAM!"

The forest was quiet. No one answered the frantic call.

"SAMMY!"

**Present**

Sam shifted restlessly in his sleep. Dean reached over and put a hand on his brother's shoulder. Sam sighed. The first streaks of light were beginning to touch the eastern sky. Whatever made the barking cough hadn't come closer in the night and Dean had finally relaxed sometime about four. He'd been dozing off and on since then. Occasionally waking to check on Sam, always alert for an unfamiliar sound. He finally got up as the sun started climbing in the sky.

"Dean?"

"Hey, Sam, how're you feeling?" Dean said as he made coffee.

Sam sat up carefully. "My head hurts and my shoulder's a little sore."

"Yeah…breakfast?"

"Okay." Sam looked a little sheepish.

"What?"

"I need to, um…"

Dean grinned and picked up the rifle. "I'll be discreet," he said, laughing as Sam blushed. He followed his brother back towards the trees, looking for any sign of who had set the trap. After Sam gave him the all clear they walked back to where Sam had been caught the night before. Sam's face was white as he looked at the rock where he'd been pinned.

"Dean…"

"Not good, is it?" Dean asked with what he hoped was a grin. It wasn't working well. Seeing the trap cause bile to rise in his throat as he considered how close he'd come to losing his brother. _Sam might be right, it might have been meant to maim and not kill, but…How many more are there? _

Sam was examining what was left of the tree. "It worked like a spring-loaded spear, almost." He turned to Dean. "Felt like it, too."

"Not funny." Dean said, grabbing his brother's arm and steering him back towards the campsite. "I was planning on staying here today and heading back tomorrow, but I think we should head back today, what do you think?" Dean said without taking a breath. Sam looked at him with a little frown. _Just say you think we should go too, Sam. Come on. _

"I think we should report the traps as soon as we can," Sam said, watching him.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"I'm sure that's what you thought," Sam said with a grin.

"What?"

"Nothing." Sam carefully lowered himself down by the fire. Dean watched him closely, noting the stiffness in his brother's movements. "I'm okay," Sam huffed.

"Right." Dean made breakfast and checked on the wounds in Sam's shoulder and the back of his head before breaking camp. Dean packed everything he could into his pack, shifting lightweight items to Sam's.

"I can carry my pack, Dean."

"I know, Sam, just making it a little easier." Dean helped Sam slide the pack over his right shoulder. Sam reached for the other strap, grimaced and let it fall back. "Ready?" Dean swung his pack up. The Henry Rifle was in his hand. For the first time since they'd come into the woods he'd left it assembled rather than demonstrating to Sam the waterproof nature of the gun. He handed Sam a walkie talkie.

"Do I really need this?" Sam said with a long suffering sigh.

"Of course you do, what're you thinking?" Dean said with a smirk. Sam rolled his eyes and looked at him. Dean waited until, with another sigh, Sam stepped in front of him.

They were heading down the trail they had come up the day before. The sun was out, there were birds in the trees, happily chirping as they chased bugs. The good mood that had been with Dean since they had come out into the forest began to reassert itself. He was humming a little under his breath as he walked down the trail. He saw Sam shaking his head. "What?"

"I thought you hated camping."

"I do." Dean laughed.

"I think you're going insane," Sam grumbled, then stopped. "What's that?" He pointed off the trail into a stand of trees.

Dean looked in the direction Sam was pointing. Something was lying off the trail. His brother started walking towards it before Dean could caution him to stop. He caught up with Sam and grabbed his arm. "Wait." Sam looked down at him with a frown. "Together."

Sam nodded and they moved towards the object lying under the trees. Sam had stopped and was looking down at it when Dean stopped beside him. It was a mound of blood and fur, a large hand lay upturned near the body, one huge foot was still attached to a butchered leg. Most of the flesh was missing from the creature, just the single hand, a foot and the massive head.

"Sasquatch?" Sam asked quietly.

"What's left of one, I think." Dean squatted down to get a better look at the body. "Butchered."

"Uh huh."

"No, I mean butchered, like an animal. Like for food," Dean said, standing and looking at his brother. Sam looked a little green. "Sammy?"

"Sorry, I…Sorry…" Sam dropped the pack and bolted away from the body. Dean heard him retching a few moments later. _That's got to suck, head wound, shoulder wound, dead stinking body. Not good with breakfast. _

Dean scouted around the body. There were several footprints leading away from the body. Two were bare feet, one large print looked like the bottom of a shoe, no tread, just the print of a foot that had been covered in something. He walked back over to the body, taking a closer look at it. The creature had definitely been butchered. He kicked it over. The remains of a wooden stake or spear were still lodged in the shoulder. _Got caught in a trap. Okay, not sasquatches setting the traps. Unless it's a cannibal sasquatch. Hannibal the Cannibal Sasquatch? Probably not. _

"Sam?" He stood up and glanced over in the direction Sam had run. He could hear the river. "Sam?" he called louder. "Sam!" He dropped his pack and grabbed the rifle, moving in the direction Sam had gone. "Sammy!"

"I'm okay," Sam said from off to his right. Dean veered in that direction and came to the top of a small incline, a game trail led down towards the river.

"Sam, are you down there?"

"Yeah, I tripped." His voice sounded a little odd to Dean. "I might have found another trap."

Dean ran down the hill a little faster than was safe. He had a round in the chamber of the gun and his finger hovering over the safety as he ran. "Sam?"

"Over here," Sam's voice sounded really off. The tone panicked Dean.

"Coming."

"I feel weird."

Dean broke through the bushes at the bottom of the trail. _Oh my god._ "Don't move."

"What?"

"Don't move."

_**To Be Continued**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Welcome to the Jungle**

**Chapter Three**

It was a perfectly peaceful scene. The river bubbled past several large stones, the sound of the water a gentle roar. The wind was moving in the trees, a soft counterpoint to the river, the birds in the trees were chirping and cheeping as they moved through, the high notes in the symphony of sound. The sun sparkled on the river casting bright light over the area.

None of it existed for Dean.

His whole focus was caught up in what lay before him.

"Don't move," he repeated, his voice harsh, filled with dread. Sam shifted a little and a moan of pain reached Dean. "DON'T MOVE!" he shouted. "Sam, for god's sake."

"Dean?"

"It's okay." Dean said trying to keep his voice calm. "Just hold still." _Oh my god, oh my god. _Dean walked carefully towards where his brother lay. A narrow trench had been carved in the stream. His brother lay in the bottom of the trench. _Punji trap. _Dean's brain dragged the name out of his memory. _Dad told me how to make one when we were hunting that skinwalker. _Whoever had designed the one that held Sam had done a good job, stakes pointed up from the bottom of the trench and the narrow walls were lined with downward pointing spikes. The ends of the stakes in the walls glittered like they had glass on them. _I have to dig him out. How bad is he hurt? How many stakes…Oh, god, I don't want to know, if I do…_He swallowed. "I need to get the shovel out of my pack." He kept his voice calm and then ran. He was back to Sam in record time.

"Sam, hang on." Dean took a careful step towards the trench, trying to gauge the best way to approach Sam without causing the sides of the hole to collapse in on his brother. As he got closer part of one wall shifted. Sam cried out. Dean noticed several of the downwards pointing sticks were pressing against his brother's leg. _Damn. How bad? No, can't think about that now. I have to get him out, if I think about how badly he's hurt I won't be able to focus. "_I'm going to dig you out."

"Good," Sam said breathlessly. "I don't feel very good."

"Yeah, I bet." Dean tried to keep his voice light as he started working on the edge of the trench. Easing the shovel in as carefully as possible, trying not to disturb the surrounding earth. He kept his eyes focused on the ground he was working on, trying to ignore the red that was beginning to stain the light earth at the bottom of the trench.

"Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for, Sammy. My fault. I should have gone with you. I…Sorry." _I screwed up, I screwed up again. _

"No, Dean," Sam said softly. "No. I didn't go far. I thought I saw something and the bank gave way under me."

"I should have gone with you." Dean had managed to get one stick out of the ground and was working on the one next to it. _How long is this going to take? How long does he have? How badly is he bleeding? _Dean's hands started shaking. _No. Focus._ He slid the shovel in the ground again, slowly, as gently as possible. Sam moaned. _Oh god. _The second stake was out of the ground. Dean looked at the trench. _There must be at least thirty, maybe more. _

Suddenly, cutting across the sounds of the forest, Dean heard the sharp barking call. He stopped for a minute to listen. It sounded like it was coming from up the valley, somewhere beyond where he and Sam had camped the night before. _Do bears hunt during the day? _As he listened he thought he heard another voice bark back, slightly lower in timber.

"What was that?" Sam asked quietly.

"I don't know. I heard it last night," Dean said as he started on the third stake. "Bear?"

"I don't think so." Sam was quiet for a minute. "I think I've heard it before."

"Yeah, me too." Dean eased the third stake up and out. Sam moaned again. "That last camping trip we took," he said as he started on the fourth one. "Remember?" Dean was talking to distract Sam, hoping to keep his brother with him as long as he could.

"A little," Sam said.

"I heard it the night before…" Dean swallowed and pulled the fourth stake carefully out of the ground. "The night before you disappeared."

"I wasn't gone long."

"Felt like forever, Sammy." Dean started on the fifth stake and glanced around the trench. _Oh god, this is going to take forever. _Sam's leg twitched, an involuntary muscle movement. He cried out in pain. Dean took a deep breath and started talking. "And then when I found you…"

**Past**

"SAMMY!" Dean's voice echoed around the small valley, the sound bouncing back to him. He'd startled a small flock of birds with his shout and they were settling back into the trees around him with grumpy chirps. He ran frantically down the trail, looking for any evidence of his brother. _Stop. Panic won't accomplish anything. _He slowed down and looked at the trail. His footprints coming back, he and Sam's heading up the valley. Dean followed their tracks until Sam's large ones disappeared. He glanced off the trail and down the hill. A skid mark ran down the small slope.

Dean started down the hill, following the long skid. _Sam, if you tripped again. I'll never let you live it down. _His heart was pounding as he ran down the slope. He knew if Sam had just fallen he would have answered. Something was wrong, all the alarm bells were ringing.

He reached the bottom of the hill, the undergrowth was fairly thick. Dean could see where Sam had broken through the bushes. "Sam?" he called. No answer. The barking sound he had heard the night before came from somewhere ahead of him. He glanced in that direction and noticed a long line of broken bushes. "Sammy?"

Sam had been dragged through the undergrowth.

There was a bloody handprint on one small tree. Dean stopped to look at it. _Sam. _There was a large footprint on the trail Sam had been dragged along. _Sasquatch?_ Dean followed the track at a run, glancing left and right for any evidence of his brother and then ahead, following the line of broken bushes.

He'd been crashing through the undergrowth for an eternity when he tripped over something on the trail. _Damn. _He pushed himself up to get a look at what he'd fallen over and nearly panicked. Sam's pack. It was caught against a large root sticking out of the ground, the straps were torn. Dean grabbed it, there was blood on the fabric. _A lot. There's a lot of blood. Oh, god, Sammy._

"Dean!" a strangled cry sounded over the forest.

"SAM!" Dean was up and moving again, running in the direction of his brother's shout. He was completely focused on reaching his brother, every ounce of concentration on the trail he was following.

He missed the trigger, never saw what hit him.

One minute he was running after Sam, the next he was on the ground, late afternoon sun pouring through the trees. Dean groaned and tried to sit up. He waited as a wave of dizziness washed over him and then tried again. _What the hell? Brilliant. _Dean pushed himself up, using a tree as leverage. He leaned against it for a minute while he struggled to get his bearings. Looking around tiny clearing he spotted a root. _Tripped and fell. Damn. How much time did that cost me? Stupid. STUPID! Sam could be…No. Not an option. _He shoved himself off the tree and staggered down the trail, still moving in the direction of Sam's earlier shout.

"Sam!" he shouted, holding his breath waiting for an answer. Nothing. "Sam! I'm coming!" He kept his focus on the trail, glancing down every few steps to make sure his way was clear. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should have been doing that before. I panicked and it cost me time. God, I hope Sam…_

The track slowly widened, opening up into a clearing ringed by trees. They were still low enough that the firs were mixed with deciduous trees of various kinds. Dean realized he had skirted the hill they had been on earlier and was approaching the stream again. The tangy scent of cottonwoods drifted on the warm air. "Sam!" His resolve to not panic was rapidly giving out. There was no sign of his brother except for the drag mark and the occasional spot of blood against a stone. "Sam!" He could hear the frantic note in his voice.

The panic was getting the upper hand as Dean got closer to the stream. The sun was beginning to set, the small creatures of the evening hours beginning to appear. He heard the yipping call of a coyote and over to his left a _whuff _of breath exhaled by a large animal. Dean froze, listening. That sounded familiar. The _whuff_ reached him again. _Oh, god. _He recognized the sound that time. His mind dredged up a memory of a trip when he was a child. Before Sam had been born his father had taken them to Yellowstone, one night while sitting by the fire with his father he'd heard a _whuffing _noise. "Bear," his father had said with a smile. "You're safe, Dean." His father had put a large hand on his shoulder and given him a very gentle shake. "Nothing to worry about."

_Why do I think this time I need to worry. _Dean turned, preparing to give the bear a wide berth, but something stopped him. A sound, a feeling, he wasn't sure, but whatever it was it steered him straight towards where he was sure the bear was standing. He dropped his pack and grabbed the shotgun. Dean was torn between a silent approach and making enough noise to let the animal know he was there and hopefully scare it off. _I always wondered if those bells hikers wore help keep the bears away, or let them know dinner was coming. _

"Sam?" Dean shouted, deciding that letting the bear know he was coming wasn't a bad idea. "Sammy?" He headed towards the _whuffing _sound. The wind shifted, Dean stopped again as the scent drifted his way. _Definitely a bear. _Dean started forwards again, also aware of the coppery scent of blood floating on the wind.

The bear was there, next to a large, dead cottonwood on the bank of the river. It didn't notice Dean, it was too busy with what was hanging from the tree. "Sam!" Dean shouted and brought the shotgun up. One large paw was pulling at his brother, trying to get him down. As the creature pulled at Sam, Dean fired off a shot. The bear turned with a growl and took a step towards Dean, as it did so it triggered some kind of trap. A sharpened stick shot out, over the bear's head and into the tree below Sam. The bear turned and ran, away from Dean, away from where his brother was hanging like a slab of meat in the tree.

Dean ran towards his brother. "I've got you, Sammy," he said as he took his brother's weight to cut the leather straps holding him suspended from the tree. "Sam?" He sawed at the leather, it finally gave way. "Sam!" Dean placed a shaking hand against his brother's throat, waiting for a heartbeat. He lifted his hand, took a deep breath and put it down again, trying to calm the shaking long enough to feel for a pulse. Sam took a breath. Dean sighed in relief and gave up his search for a pulse. "If you're breathing, your heart's beating."

A sound behind him caused him to look up from Sam. Something was moving in the dried leaves under the trees. Dean was holding his breath waiting for the re-appearance of the bear when a small bird hopped out from under the tree and started digging through the leaves to Dean's left. He let out the breath, and ran his hands gently over Sam, checking for broken bones. _There's a lot of blood, where is it coming from?_ The sharp snap of a stick made him jump. _Maybe we should get away from where the bear knows food is. _A small moaned escaped from Sam, Dean looked down at his brother, Sam was struggling to open his eyes.

"Sam?" His brother groaned again. "Come on, Sam." Dean heard something big moving in the bushes. _Okay, time to go. It might be just a deer, but not taking any chances. _"Sam?" Groan. "The bear might be coming back." Groan. "We need to get moving, think you can help?" Groan. "Great." Dean stood and hauled his brother to his feet, dragging one arm over his own shoulders. "Come on, Sammy, help me here." His tone seemed to reach Sam, and his brother leaned against him with a groan, but Sam's legs took some of his weight.

Dean half carried, half dragged Sam back down the path, back around the hill and as far as he could get them from the trap. His brother stumbled along, Dean suspected he was more unconscious than aware, his movements were mechanical and disjointed. Sam hadn't spoken or even groaned again. Dean finally managed to get them back along the path to where he had found Sam's pack.

"Dean, please," Sam whispered.

"Sammy? You with me?"

"Stop, please." Sam suddenly sagged against him.

"Sam!" Dean gently lowered his brother to the ground. "Sam?" He could hear panic in his voice, he tried to calm it, not wanting to panic his brother in turn, but he couldn't slow the slamming of his heart against his ribs.

"Can we stay here? Please?" Sam said without opening his eyes. "I can't go any further, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I just wanted to put some distance between you and that bear." Dean pulled a water bottle out of his pack and held his brother's head so he could take a drink.

"Bear?" Sam slowly opened his eyes. "There was a bear?"

"Yeah, he thought you were a convenient dinner."

"Oh?" Sam struggled to sit up. Dean put a hand on his chest and pushed him back down.

"Wait a minute. I need to check you over."

"I don't think anything's broken." Sam said, but he lay still as Dean checked him more carefully this time.

"What happened?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. I think a bee stung me and I might have fallen." Sam paused, a frown on his face. "Something grabbed me I think…"

"A bee?"

"Yeah, on my neck," Sam said, reaching a hand towards the back of his neck. "Ow."

Dean pushed his brother's hand aside and looked at his neck. "What the hell is that?" It looked like the stinger was still in Sam's neck. "Hang on, Sam. And don't touch it." Dean dug the tweezers out of the first-aid kit and pulled the small object from Sam's neck. _What the hell is that? Too big to be a stinger. _It was black, looked hollow and might have once been a thorn. _Dart? But from where? Who?_

"What is that?" Sam was peering at the tweezers.

"I don't know." Dean handed them to his brother. Sam examined it with a frown on his face. "It looks like a thorn. Could you have run into a bush? A rose bush? There were lots along the trail."

"I doubt a rose bush got my neck, Dean. I'm a little taller than that."

"Well, whatever it is, let me clean it out." Dean swabbed the area off with alcohol and turned his attention to the other wounds on Sam's body.

"You're bleeding!" Sam said, grabbing his arm.

"It's your blood, Sammy."

Sam put a hand against the side of Dean's head, it came away red. He raised his eyebrows and looked at Dean. "My blood?"

"Yep."

"On the side of your head?"

"Yep."

"Looks like I got a bump on you, too."

"Yep."

"Dean?"

"I'm fine, Sam. I fell and bumped my head, that's all." Dean said absently as he dabbed at Sam's wounds. There were several large slashes on Sam's arms and upper chest. Dean cleaned them carefully and laid bandages on them. "What did you get into to make these?"

Sam looked down at his arms and frowned. "I…uh…I'm not sure. I…" He closed his eyes. "I can't remember, Dean." Sam's voice climbed a little in panic.

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean patted his brother's shoulder. He looked a little closer at Sam. His brother's eyes were still a little unfocused and hazy. Dean smiled at Sam and glanced down at the bandages. They were already bright red with blood. The small scratches on Sam's face were still trickling a little as well. Dean swabbed at them with a paper towel. _Weird. _

"What is it?" Sam asked softly.

"Nothing?"

"Yeah, Dean, I know that look. What's wrong?"

Dean looked at Sam and the small trickles of blood. "Nothing."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I deserve to know, don't you?" He tried for a faint grin. "I'll be eighteen soon, not eight. I can handle it."

"Sam…"

"What is it?" Sam demanded, grabbing Dean's wrist as he started dabbing at the scratches on Sam's face.

"I don't think your blood is clotting right."

**Present**

Twenty stakes were out of the ground. Dean looked down at the seemingly endless task. There were still too many left before he could get to Sam. Dean had started counting the time not in minutes, but in stakes. His brother had grown increasingly quiet as Dean talked about the past. Sam hadn't actually said anything at all for the last five stakes. It had been a groan that had pulled Dean from his memories of the past.

"Sam?" He carefully eased another stake out of the ground. "Sammy?" he said when he received no answer.

"Yeah?" It was a whisper, but an answer.

"Just checking."

"How much longer?"

"Not long now, Sam." Dean started on the next stake, completely focused on the task at hand. "Not long, I promise. There are only a few more." _A few thousand more, or that's how it seems. _

Dean got another one out. A sound caused him to look up. _How long have I been doing this? _The sun had moved through the sky, the light was late afternoon. As he stepped carefully around to the next stake something caught his eye, something he had missed until now. About five yards from the end of the trench was a dead tree. Suspended from the tree were the remains of something that had once been human. Hanging from leather straps, the body swayed in the wind. _I noticed the stench, but I thought it was the sasquatch on the hill. I'm pretty much upwind from that thing. _It looked a little too familiar for comfort. _Someone is using humans to bait traps. Like before only that was…Why are those hunters here? _He went back to work. Soon, another stake lay beside the others and another and another. Endlessly, one after the other. "Five more left, Sammy, only five."

"Can you hurry?"

"Yeah," Dean said, wondering if he should risk just pulling Sam out. _No, I have no idea what's under him. I can't get sloppy now. _Another. "Only a minute or two more Sam." His hands were shaking, his back aching as he dug at the stakes. "Two left." Sam was quiet. "Sam?" _Don't you dare fade on my now, not now. _

"Still here."

"Good." Dean eased the final stake out of the walls and dropped carefully into the trench beside his brother. He tried to see under Sam, to get an idea of what he was dealing with. All he could see were Sam's clothes, soaked in blood. "Let's get you out of here, Sam."

"Yeah," Sam whispered.

"Is there anyway you can help me?" Dean asked, trying to figure out the best way to get Sam up and out with the least amount of damage.

"I think so," Sam said in a pain-soaked voice. "I'll push up with my arms?"

"Just enough so I can grab you."

"Yeah."

"When ever you're ready, Sam." Dean said getting ready to grab Sam. His brother pushed up off the ground, Dean grabbed his shoulders and started to pull him up. Sam groaned a little as Dean put pressure on him, but Dean didn't stop, not as the groan got louder, not as Sam screamed. Dean pulled him up and managed to get him over one side of the trench before clambering out and hauling Sam the rest of the way out.

Dean turned his brother over. _Oh no. _"Sam?"

"That hurt."

"Sorry." Dean was running frantic eyes over Sam's body. What he saw caused the carefully controlled panic to start blossoming in his chest again. _How bad? How bad? _Blood was welling up from myriad wounds, although as he looked he realized most weren't all that deep. One or two however… _Oh, god._

"How bad?" Sam asked, opening his eyes to look at Dean.

"Not bad at all, Sammy. You've had lots worse." Dean tried to smile and still the shaking in his hands before he tried to deal with the wounds.

"That bad, huh?"

"What do you mean? I just told you it's not bad at all."

"Dean? I know that look." Sam paused and looked at him for a long moment. "I know that tone."

"What are you talking about?"

"Am I dead?" Sam said, his voice fading, but he tried for a little smile. It looked more like a grimace of pain.

"Of course not." _Oh, god, Sammy. _

"Not yet?" Sam was watching him, his eyes losing focus.

"Not funny. You'll be fine, Sam."

"Will you burn me out here?" Sam said, his words slurring together.

"Shut up, Sam," Dean growled.

"Dean?"

"I said shut up, Sam."

"I…" Sam's eyes rolled up in his head.

"Sam?" Dean shook him gently at first and then a little harder. "Sam?" His shaking fingers managed to find a pulse, it was weak, but there. "Sammy?"

_No, no. Come on, Sam. No._

In the distance Dean heard the barking cough, and then an answering call much, much closer. As he looked down at Sam he heard a third voice calling out somewhere up the trail from where they were. _I think that's the hunters that set the traps. A call like that carries further than a shout and it sounds animal so no one would suspect. Whoever they are, they're getting closer. I have to get us out of here now. I need to get my pack…Then where? They are on this side of the river. _

"Sam, I'm going to get our packs, I'll be right back," Dean said to his unconscious brother. He raced up the hill and grabbed the packs and headed back down the trail. He looked across the river, trying to gauge how deep the water was. Another call sounded, even closer.

Dean stepped into the water, letting the current push against him for a minute, getting a feel for the water. _Okay, not too swift here, and not too deep if I cross down a little ways. There's only that one deep spot and I think I can miss that. The water will hide our tracks and if I go in downstream there's gravel not mud. _He pulled a length of rope out of his pack and tried the two packs together and then wrapped the rope around his waist. _This is not the smartest thing I've done lately, but we have no choice. _A fourth voice called from above him somewhere. _Smart or not we have to get out of here. _

"Time to go, Sam. You with me?" There was no response from his brother. _Damn. _ Dean tossed the packs into the water so they wouldn't leave a drag mark as he walked along the bank and then pulled his brother over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

The barking cough came from very close. And another. And another.

Dean hurried down the bank and then stepped into the water, shifting Sam a little for better balance. The packs had floated down stream and were tugging at his waist. The hunters were very close to them now, Dean thought he could hear something crashing through the forest, even over the sound of the river. The water was deeper than he thought, but he kept moving across the river. He sped up his pace.

It was a serious mistake.

His foot came down wrong on a stone at the edge of a deep pool. In the instant it took to right himself, the current caught him and pulled his feet out from under him. He went down into the icy river, into the deep pool. The water closed over his head and the current pulled Sam off his shoulder. _NO! _Dean pushed himself to the surface, grabbing at his brother with frantic hands. Dean was dragged along in the river, the packs pulling him quickly down stream as he struggled to get back to his brother. The packs hindered his progress. _We'll need those later, but I can't get to Sam..._

Trying to stay afloat as he struggled to untie the knot around his waist, Dean saw his brother's limp body pulled towards a huge stone on the far side of the river.

Sam slammed against the stone and then disappeared beneath the water.

_**To Be Continued**_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing. I might be a little slow on my replies this week, I'm off to LA and the convention, so if you heard loud squeeing, that might have been me. I have every intention of writing while I am there, but I expect all rational thought will leave me sometime around Friday afternoon._

**Welcome to the Jungle**

**Chapter Four**

The first shock of icy water pulled him out of the encompassing dark. Struggling against the cold, Sam tried to force himself towards the surface, only to be slammed against something hard and unyielding, then he was pulled under again. His lungs were beginning to ache with the need for air as he was pulled along in the rushing current. Finally, his feet found purchase and he shoved his head above the water. Gasping, he desperately drew air into his oxygen starved lungs. The current still pulled at him, pushing him further down stream.

He struggled to remember what had happened, how he had ended up in the river. He remembered falling and then the eternity of pain as Dean dug him slowly from the trap. He was sure Dean had gotten him out—and then there was nothing until the icy water closed over his head. "Dean!" he tried to shout for his brother, but ended up with a mouthful of water. _Not smart, Sam. _

The river had widened and Sam could hear the dull roar of rapids quickly approaching. He forced himself towards the near bank. The current increased in speed as he got close to a small beach hidden between two huge rocks, one in the water and the other on the shore. Each stroke seemed to take more effort, until black spots were dancing in front of his eyes and his world had narrowed to a tiny reality—getting out of the river. He swore the bank was moving away from him with each stroke, but finally his hand came into contact with solid ground. He dragged himself out of the water as far as he could, stopping before his feet were all the way out, the effort was finally too much.

Sam lay on the bank, dragging gasping breaths into his aching body, slowly becoming aware of a thousand tiny points of pain blossoming on his body. "Dean!" he tried to call again, his voice a whisper against the roar of the river. Suddenly over the sound of the flowing water he heard something—a barking cough. His mind cast hazily around trying to identify it. _Bear? Wolf? No. Something else. Sasquatch? No, not that, but something. Dean said he heard it last night. _The cough called again, it sounded like it was close.

Some long buried instinct, something nearly animalistic in Sam made him force his body into action. The primitive part of his mind told him to hide from the owner of that call. Sam dragged his body up away from the rushing water and behind the huge rock in the bank. The boulder was hollowed out at the bottom, the result of a long-ago flood. Sam forced his body into the space, pulling his legs in as far as he could to hide from the hunter calling in the forest. That same primitive voice in his head told him he was downwind from the hunter and that was good.

Sam was cold, he was shivering as he lay under the huge stone. Warm darkness was tugging at him, pulling him away from the cold, from the pain slowly filling his body, the tiny points of pain flowing together into something resembling agony. With a groan he let his eyes close. He thought he heard something rattle against the sheltering stone, and then he sank down into the warm dark.

**XXX**

"SAM!" Dean yelled as his brother disappeared under the water. He fumbled madly with the rope around his waist as he tried to swim towards where his brother had been pulled beneath the swirling water. The current caught him and pushed him against the far bank, slamming him into a hidden stone lurking beneath the surface of the water. Dean managed to hook his arm around the stone long enough to catch a quick breath and get his bearings.

The call of the hunters sounded from very close, just across the river. He was briefly torn between the desire to discover the identity of the hunters and the need to escape. His instincts, honed by years of hunting, told him this was not the time to let the hunters find him. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself under the water and let the current pull him along. He felt the passage of the rock Sam had been thrown against and then he was in even deeper water, the speed of the river increasing. _Time to get out, this can't be good. _Getting his head above the surface he glanced around, he was well downstream from where they had gone in. He was also very close to the opposite bank. Dean swan towards the bank, hoping the current had pulled Sam in that direction as well.

Dean dragged the sodden packs onto the bank. He grabbed them and headed quickly away from the river, in case the hunters had moved far enough downstream to find him. There was a stand of cottonwood tangled with willow about ten feet from the bank. He carried the packs towards the sheltering trees. As he reached the cover of a fallen tree, he heard the barking cough, upstream and across the river from him. He stuck a finger above the log confirming what his mind had told him, he was downwind from the hunters. _Just in case they can smell me. Of course if they _are_ human there is little chance of that. _

Dean crawled further into the thicket, dragging the packs with him. He paused, listening as the hunters cry sounded again. It sounded like they had stopped somewhere upstream, at least the sound was no closer than it had been the time before.

Keeping one ear turned towards the river and the sound of the hunters, he began pulling things out of the packs. There was a growing urge to run up and down the bank, screaming his brother's name. It was starting to overwhelm him a little. He tamped down his panic long enough to work on the packs. _When I find Sam I'm going to need food and a sleeping bag and medical supplies._ _Sam won't be able to carry anything. Oh, god, Sam, please be alive. _Before he shoved some of Sam's clothes into his pack, he pulled the Henry Rifle out, glad he had taken the thirty seconds to disassemble it and put it in the waterproof stock.

Once he finished with his pack, he quickly assembled the rifle. Glancing around the thicket, he spied a branch well above eye level, even for something very tall. Tying a rock on the end of his rope he pitched it up and over the branch and then used the rope to pull Sam's pack high into the tree. He tied it off as inconspicuously as possible and picked up his pack. He stood listening for several minutes. The hunters call had moved off again, heading back upstream towards the trap and the sasquatch's corpse.

_So, which way? Would the river have carried Sam further down? Or would he have gotten out somewhere upstream of me? _Dean looked around the thicket, trying to find a trail of some sort. He realized he could hear the roar of water rushing through rapids somewhere downstream of him. _No, Sammy. _Spotting a faint trail, he swung the pack on his back, grabbed the rifle and headed along the path.

The trail wound through the trees along the edge of the river. Once or twice the cover broke enough for Dean to see the water and the far side of the bank. On one occasion he saw something moving, it was just a shadow in the deep gloom along the bank, but whatever it was it was on two legs, moving quickly downstream. He stepped back into the cover of the willows, the urge to run down the path suddenly rising in his chest again. _I am very close to panicked. Very close. Sam, hang on. Please hang on. _Dean resisted the urge to yell his brother's name, not wanting to alert the shadow moving on the other side of the river.

Dean started walking again, his pace was increasing as he approached the roaring of the rapids. _No, Sam. Please don't have gone through there. _The barking cough suddenly called from right across the river. Dean froze in the shadows of the thick willows. "_When in doubt freeze," his father's voice played in his head. "Movement is more likely to be spotted. So hold still." _Dean waited for a count of twenty before he began edging down the trail again, all senses alert for signs of the hunters.

"Sam?" Dean said quietly to the forest, willing his brother to hear him, wherever he was. "Please remember dad's cardinal rule when you are lost. Please, Sammy, please remember that."

**Past**

The forest was slowly getting dark and the small creatures were out scurrying around under the forest canopy. The rich, almost sweet, scent of pine and fir trees filled the air and the wind brought the smell of cottonwoods and wild roses into the woods. In spite of the warmth of the evening, Dean had lit a fire and the smoke mingled with the other smells of the forest.

He put the pan in the fire and tossed in water, rice, dehydrated onions, garlic, veggie bacon and beef bits. Dean smiled at Sam as he made the hash. "Never thought I'd like the veggie stuff, but it makes a pretty good hash."

"It does," Sam said, a little weakly. "I'm a little cold, Dean."

Dean looked up at his brother, Sam was visibly shivering. Dean put a hand on his brother's forehead, he felt warm, warmer than he should. After tossing another log into the fire to build the flames up, Dean grabbed Sam's sleeping bag and helped Sam get settled in it. Dean carefully pulled the cover over his brother's shoulders. "Better?"

Sam nodded. "Am I still bleeding?"

_How do you want me to answer? I know you can feel the blood on your face. _"A little, not bad though, Sammy."

"Dean?" Sam smiled. "Are you lying to me?"

"Nope." He smiled at his brother.

"That bad, huh?"

"It'll be okay, Sam." Dean stirred the hash, looking out into the forest as it slowly grew dark. He realized there was a knot of tension tied firmly at the base of his neck. Whoever had grabbed Sam might still be out there, somewhere in the night. Dean remembered the coughing bark from the night before. _But I thought that was a bear, and it probably was, but who threw that spear? Some crazed hunter? Some idiot who thinks even bow hunting is somehow cheating? That's all we need. Could that be who…_

"Do you think that's what's taking the hikers?" Sam said suddenly. Dean started and looked over at his brother with a frown. "Dean?"

Dean laughed and pulled the hash out of the fire. "Reading my mind, Sammy?" He ladled out two servings and handed one to his brother before settling down beside him. "I was just wondering if whoever grabbed you killed those hikers."

"Whoever was in the woods last night with the spear?"

"Yeah, could it be a sasquatch? We found those footprints by the stream."

"I don't think sasquatches have evolved into tool users, Dean." Sam looked at him. "And that thing you pulled out of my neck was a dart of some kind, wasn't it? I don't remember much after the sting. Dean? Do you think there was something in that?"

"What?" Dean asked.

"Where did you find me? All you said was something about a bear. I don't remember much, but look at my wrists." Sam held an arm out, Dean could see the deep purple bruises where the leather straps had marred Sam's skin. "Dean?" When he didn't answer, Sam gave him a little nudge. "Dean?"

"What?"

"Where did you find me?"

Dean tried to chuckle. "Hanging around." Dean frowned as he remembered seeing his brother suspended in the tree. "Huh."

"Huh?"

"The bear…I think he triggered some kind of trap. He was pulling at you and then…hmm…"

"Do you think I was bait for the trap?" Sam paused for a minute, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration. "Blood."

"Blood?"

"The scent would carry and the longer I bled, the more the scent would diffuse. That would explain the slashes on my chest and arms, they wanted me to bleed to draw their prey in."

"Makes sense, I guess."

"Do you think that's why my blood isn't clotting? They gave me something to keep it flowing?" Sam looked at him. "Dean…"

"No, Sam. Don't say it," Dean growled at his brother. _No, Sam. No. _

"But Dean…"

"No, god damn it," Dean threw his empty plate down on the ground and stalked away from the warmth of the fire. He stood with his back to Sam looking out on the dark forest, listening to the soft calls of the night creatures. The knot of tension had exploded into screaming panic. His back was aching with the throbbing beat of his heart and he realized he was clenching his fists so tightly his fingernails were cutting into his palm. _Get a hold of yourself. You can't help Sam if you're like this. Calm down. _Dean took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

"Dean?" Sam's soft cry had Dean moving back to his brother at high speed.

"Sammy?" His brother's eyes were unfocused. "What is it?"

"I…something's wrong." Sam was trembling. Dean grabbed his sleeping bag and wrapped it around his brother. He could feel the tremors wracking Sam's body as he placed the bag over Sam's shoulders. "Thanks," Sam said through chattering teeth.

"Sure." Dean swabbed at the blood running across Sam's face. _I should check the bandages in his chest. _

"Dean…?" Sam said, his voice thick. "I'm sleepy. I don't…think…I…" Sam's eyes closed.

"Sammy?" Dean said, hearing the note of panic in his voice. Sam slowly relaxed, his head dropping to the side. Dean caught him and eased him down into a prone position. He checked for a pulse, Sam's heart was pounding. _Not good. _Dean tucked the sleeping bag closer around Sam and then paced out to the edge of the firelight, looking into the forest. _Not a really defensible spot. It would be better to have a wall at our back, or be partway up that hill. Tomorrow I'll move camp up there. That way whoever they are have to climb to get to us. _

The forest was quiet, the soft rustling of the night creatures a gentle counterpoint to the crackling fire. From somewhere in the distance the plaintive howl of a wolf drifted down to Dean, the hair on the back of his neck standing up briefly in primitive response to the wolf's cry. He chuckled a little and ran his hand over the back of his neck. Something large was moving through the trees, Dean could just see the shape as it ghosted by—a deer followed by two fawns. The wind was whispering through the trees. Dean glanced at his watch. "Nine o'clock and all is well," he said aloud, to break the silence of the forest.

He walked back to his brother and checked on him. Blood was still trickling down Sam's face, but Dean thought it might be slowing a little. He tossed another log on the fire and dragged the coffee pot out of his pack. _I have a funny feeling this is going to be a long watch. _Dean put the pot on the fire and paced around the camp, pausing every second or two to listen and look. Nothing. He went back to the fire and poured himself a cup of coffee. _Sam's right about the scent of blood. _Dean started pacing around the edges of their camp again. _It could call in every predator in the forest. Funny, thinking about it we haven't seen that much evidence of large predators here. Coyotes, yes, and I think that was a bobcat track I saw the other day—either that or a giant house cat—but nothing big. No cougar, no bear. That's odd, they should be here—this is prime bear country. _

An owl called from somewhere over head. Dean looked up and saw the huge creature swoop through the trees. _That is the biggest owl I have ever seen. _A coyote started yipping, its song carrying in the night air. Dean paced around again and looked at his watch. "Ten o'clock and all's well," he said to the dark forest.

The night moved on, the moon appeared over the forest and cast a light bright enough to allow shadows to form under the trees. In the bright patches Dean occasionally saw something scurrying by, mostly small animals. _We haven't actually seen all that many deer or elk, and we should have. Those ones tonight were some of the first. Odd. _"One o'clock and all's well." He started another cup of coffee, checked on Sam, fed the fire and paced. "Three o'clock and all's well."

The first sliver of dawn was lighting the sky when Dean heard the barking cough he'd heard the night before. _Is that the bear again? _The sound bounced around the trees, Dean was unsure where the call had originated. He walked away from their camp, a little way up the hill behind them, to see if he could get a better bearing on the sound. The bark sounded again. Dean listened carefully. _Maybe from up the trail? The direction we should be heading? That trail would have eventually met up with dad I think, and that's where most of the hikers disappeared. _The call came again. Dean breathed a sigh of relief, the sound was moving away from them.

He walked back down the hill. The light was rapidly changing, the soft pre-dawn pink giving way to the yellow-gold light he had come to associate with mornings in the mountains. Dean grabbed the coffee pot and dug a small hole to dump the grounds in, then rinsed the pot and started some fresh coffee. He checked on Sam, his brother was still asleep. What worried Dean was the fact that Sam had hardly moved all night, sleeping more like he was drugged than resting. _Not good. What do I do? _He stirred the coffee. _Move camp up the hill and…_

"Dean?" Sam said with a little cough.

"Right here, Sammy," Dean said, walking over to his brother. "How do you feel?" He dropped a hand down on Sam's forehead, his brother was warm. _Too warm. _

"I'm okay." Sam coughed again.

"Well, I'm convinced." Dean grabbed two cups and poured them coffee. He handed a cup to Sam, his brother smiled his thanks. "As soon as you're up to it, I want to move camp up the hill, towards the crest." Dean sat down beside Sam. "Better defense there, they have to come up the hill to get us, and if we stay below the crest, we're hidden from the other side as well."

Sam smiled. "I remember the lecture, too, Dean. Didn't we get that one in the Big Hole Valley? When dad was showing us the battlefield there?"

"One of many times," Dean said with a grin. "But as soon as you can, we move."

"Shouldn't we pack up and…"

"No." Dean shook his head. "No, Sam. What's the cardinal rule if you get lost or separated?"

"We're not lost."

"Sam…" he said with a warning growl in his voice. "I'm counting you hurt as a 'lost' situation. And what's the rule?"

Sam sighed. "If you are lost or separated, sit down, make camp as best you can and wait for help to come to you." He repeated it in a little sing-song, a lesson learned years before and drilled into their heads as often as John could think of a reason to bring it up.

"Right. So we move up there and wait for dad. We're supposed to meet up with him tomorrow. If we don't show, he'll come looking. He knows about where we are."

"Dean, maybe you should walk out and get him? I…"

"Nope, not an option. If you think it is…" Dean shook his head as Sam opened his mouth to protest. "We aren't arguing about this, Sam."

"Dean…"

"No, Sam." Dean stood up and walked away from the fire. He stood staring out at the forest, trying to get his growing panic under control. Sam was fevered. He was still bleeding. Every fiber of Dean was screaming to pick his brother up and carry him out. A very small voice, a very reasonable voice that he knew was right, told him to wait. He knew that trying to carry Sam out would put them at a huge disadvantage. There were still predators in the woods, and whatever was killing hikers was still out there as well. He sighed and scrubbed a hand across his face. A sound behind him caused him to turn.

"Sammy, what the hell do you think you're doing?" he said as he ran to where his brother had fallen.

"I was…" His brother accepted Dean's help to sit up. Sam closed his eyes for a minute.

_Yeah, you think I didn't notice that, Sammy? _"Trying to prove you could walk out?"

"Yeah," Sam said with a sheepish grin.

"That was smart." Dean still had his hand on Sam's back. His brother was trembling, his muscles tense.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Sam said, still grinning a little. "Famous last words, right?"

"Shut up, Sam," Dean snapped. He stood and pulled his brother to his feet. "Let's get you settled up the hill and I'll move everything else."

"Yeah, sounds like a good idea, Dean. Follow the cardinal rule."

"Right, and it's more time camping."

"I hope I don't ruin that for you." Sam said softly as Dean helped him sit down so he could lean against a large rock.

"Ruin what?"

"Camping, Dean. I hope…Well I hope you'll still be able to go camping after this."

"Of course we will." His voice was falsely bright. He knew it, he suspected Sam knew it, but Sam's last words had terrified him. _Does he know how bad it actually is? Or…oh god…it's worse than I think, isn't it? Sammy? Don't you dare leave me out here alone._

**Present**

The sound of rushing water filled the small space. Sam lay listening to it as awareness crept back. He was cold, desperately cold, the kind of cold that soaked into the bones and made them ache. _At least the cold numbs the wounds a little. How long have I been here? _He peered out of his hiding place, all he could really see were the trunks of trees and the rock-covered ground directly in front of him. He tried to shift a little, pain lanced up from his shoulder and his foot started to tingle. _Great pins and needles. _

Sam listened to the sound of the water. It was soothing him a little, the fear that had driven him under the rock and into hiding had dissipated somewhat. He sighed. _I wonder where Dean is. How did I end up in the river?_ Over the sound of the water, he thought he heard the barking cough. _Across the river, though, I think. _He shifted a little again, the aches were becoming pain as he became more aware. _How bad was I hurt? It's bad. I wonder if Dean realizes how bad it is? Where is he? I don't want to…not alone, not here under this rock where no one will find me. _

Sam struggled against a growing panic. The idea of dying alone, never to be found, of his brother missing, maybe injured, was beginning to fill his mind. He tried to take a deep breath to calm himself, but a sudden claustrophobia seized him and he tried to edge out from under the rock. A grunting noise stopped him. He shoved himself back under, as far as he could. Something splashed through the water behind him and then there were heavy footsteps on the gravel. Sam held his breath.

The footsteps stopped.

Sam held perfectly still, not breathing, not daring to blink or even move his eyes. Fear held him immobile. A small part of him half hoped that his heart could stop for a moment to silence that loud beat.

A crunch on the gravel, the footsteps drew near to his hiding place.

Sam tried to still the trembling of his limbs. Some part of his mind was reacting to the situation with a fear so basic he couldn't even begin to describe it. It was almost as if something in him knew what was out there, and was terrified.

The footsteps drew closer.

Suddenly out of the corner of a watering eye Sam saw a large foot. It looked like it was shod in a homemade moccasin of some kind, the leather running up the leg and out of his line of sight. Whoever it was paused for a long moment. The foot turned as the hunter shifted, Sam assumed he was looking for something. A barking cough carried over the sound of the water, the owner of the large feet in front of Sam barked back. Two short barks, a longer one and then another series of three short ones. _Sounds like a code_, the tiny part of his mind still capable of rational thought said.

The feet moved away, Sam heard them crunch on the gravel and then a splash as the hunter went into the river. Sam let his breath out in a silent exhale. Fear was still holding him in his spot as his body started reacting. First trembling and then shaking, the tremors becoming more violent as cold mixed with fear. He drew a deep breath and another, trying to stop the irrational reaction. _We've faced a lot. I've faced a lot. Why is this affecting me like this?_

A scream sounded from somewhere downstream. _That sounded a little like me. _He was still hiding under the rock when he realized something was crashing through the bushes upstream of him. Something fairly large was coming very fast. Sam was trying to get further into his hiding place again when Dean's boots broke through the bushes at a dead run and moved past him.

"Dean!" he tried to call out, his voice came out as a whisper. He pushed himself out from under the rock and dragged himself up. "Dean!" he tried again. He could still hear his brother crashing through the bushes. Sam staggered after him. "Dean!" That time it came out loud enough to carry a little. The crashing stopped.

"Sam?" his brother shouted back.

"Dean, here," he called as he headed towards the path Dean had made through the bushes. He heard Dean coming back, a little slower, but still running.

"Sammy? You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Stay where you are, I'll be right there."

"Okay," Sam called back, the fear receding quickly once he had heard his brother's voice.

Suddenly the barking cough called from right across the river.

"SAM!" Dean yelled.

Something slammed into Sam, a thud against his body and he was falling. Dean caught him, he knew that. He heard his brother calling his name and he thought he heard a gunshot, but he wasn't sure, everything was falling away.

Even with Dean's arms around him, he pitched forward into a dark abyss.

_**To Be Continued**_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: I've backed this chapter up a little so we have Dean's point of view to when he finds Sam. _

**Welcome to the Jungle**

**Chapter Five**

The willows hung over the trail like waving arms, catching at Dean as he walked down the trail. He had slowed down, even though that meant fighting his growing anxiety and need to find his brother. Something was moving on the other side of the river. He caught glimpses of its shadow, but nothing more. The sound of the rapids was quickly approaching. _Please, Sam, please don't be in there. _Dean could hear a bird calling from somewhere to his left, the note of its song, loud even over the roar of the river. His eye caught movement and he spotted the singer, a tiny brown bird. _That can't be right, all that noise coming from…_The bird started singing again. _Okay, it is that bird._

A scream sounded from somewhere downstream.

_That sounded like Sam. _All caution was suddenly gone, replaced by blind panic. Dean ran through the bushes in the direction of the sound. He was crashing through them, not caring as they tore his face and hands, he was focused on getting to his brother. _It sounded like he was in pain. Something's wrong. _Dean ran through a small clearing in the forest, just catching the sight of the river and a huge boulder as he ran by.

"Dean!" He thought he heard his brother's voice, but the call had come from behind. Dean slowed a little, listening, still moving towards the rapids and where the first scream had come from. "Dean!"

_That was Sam, I think, wrong direction, though. _He stopped. "Sam?"

"Dean, here," his brother answered him.

Dean turned around, ignoring the tingle of relief that flooded him and nearly drove him to his knees. "Sammy? You okay?"

"Yeah."

_You sound okay, Sam. Right. _"Stay where you are, I'll be right there."

"Okay," Sam called back.

Dean realized he was headed back towards the clearing by the river—the one with the huge boulder in it. _I ran right past him. Good. Very good, Dean. Nice rescue. _He could see Sam at the break in the trees. _God, Sammy, you're a mess. _

Suddenly a barking cough called from right across the river. Dean broke through the cover in time to see something flash above the bushes. Sam slapped at his neck. "SAM!" Dean yelled increasing his speed. He ran into Sam, catching his brother as he fell. The barking cough came from across the river. Dean raised the rifle and fired into the bushes where he thought the shadow had been. "Sammy, hang on, come on. Sam." He shook his brother, Sam was slowly relaxing in his arms. "Sam!" He spied a small splinter in the side of Sam's neck and pulled it out. A small dart, it looked like it might have once been a thorn. _Just like before. _"Sam?" He shook him again. "Sammy?"

The call came again, answered by another. A short blast of staccato barks, some long some short. Dean saw its shadow move away. He caught another glimpse of it, tall, definitely moving on two legs. The call from up river sounded and the shadow across the river answered. It sounded happy. Dean could hear gleeful laughter in the answering bark.

"Sam?" Dean focused on his brother as the threat moved away. Sam was limp, unmoving in his arms, still breathing but only just. "You probably expect me to carry you," he said as he hauled Sam up and over his shoulder, staggering under the weight. "We won't get far at this rate. We need someplace to hole up for the night." He started down the path and then stopped. _It went upstream, but why would it just stop chasing us? _

Dean noticed a fallen tree off the path. He carried his brother to the tree and laid him down, tucking his own coat around Sam before pulling branches over Sam's body. "I'll be right back, Sam. Here's the walkie talkie. I told you keeping them in Ziploc bags was a good idea." He put the radio into Sam's right hand, so he couldn't miss it if he woke up. _When, Dean, when he wakes up. If is not an option._ _I hate leaving him, I…but…_"I'll be right back." He picked up the rifle and started down the trail, moving cautiously, silently, through the forest, stepping heavily so his footprints looked like he was carrying something as he moved down the path.

The roar of the river was almost deafening when he saw another clearing ahead of him. The trail led through the center of the clearing. He edged off the path and into the bushes, still trying to move as quietly as possible, knowing the river would cover a lot of sound. As he moved through the bushes the wind shifted a little, bringing the scent of the river and…Dean gagged. He looked out through the cover of the bushes, a body was suspended from a tree on the other side of the river. _This gets better and better. We were on the upper trail when we came this way. No wonder we didn't see it. Sloppy though, dad will kick my ass. _

He continued through the bushes, finally reaching the far side of the clearing. As he put his foot back on the main path something caught his eye. A vine ran across the trail. _What the hell? _He squatted down to look at it, the vine was stretched taut, across the trail at about ankle height. Dean ran his fingers under the vine. _It's a trigger of some kind. _He got up and looked around, he couldn't see anything obvious. _I'll go a little further. If this is the only one…_Walking at a snails pace, all senses alert, Dean continued. The urge to get back to his brother was tugging at him, but he needed to make sure they could get out.

At a bend in the trail something made Dean stop. He would never be sure what it was, but something stopped him before he took his next step. The vine was at shoulder height, the pack brushed it. But instinct had warned him. Dean had time to react. He dropped, face down, onto the trail. He heard air rush over his heard and the _thunk_ of something hitting a rock off the trail to his right. He turned his head to look at the rock and what had smashed into it. Dean could just make out the shattered remains of a spear in the bushes at the base of the rock. As he shifted to get up, his hand slid against something else, what he had at first taken for a tree root was not a tree root at all. He pushed against it, feeling the elasticity of the "root" before he eased away from it and pushed himself erect.

Dean walked back up the trail, picked up a small stone and tossed it towards the root. He missed the first throw, but managed to get it on the second. A log similar to the first trap Sam had sprung swung down over the path. Dean looked down the trail, he could see another vine stretched across—this time at knee level, and then a branch over the trail that made him look twice. Realization hit him hard. His hands started shaking, his anxiety and panic slowly becoming desperation and despair. _The whole trail is booby-trapped. I can't get him out this way. _He put his head in his hands for a moment.

"Dean?" The walkie talkie crackled to life.

"Sammy?" Dean turned and started back up the trail carefully walking along the edge of the path where he could hide his passage back.

"Where are you?" It was barely a whisper.

"Just down the trail, I'll be right back, don't move."

"Someone piled branches on me," Sam's voice was weak, but Dean could hear trace of irony in it as well.

"I was hiding you."

"Shouldn't you say over?" Amusement rippled in his brother's voice.

Dean grinned at the walkie talkie. "I didn't want to confuse you, over."

"I woke up under a log, with branches on top of me and you think saying over will confuse me?"

"You never know, Sammy, over." The trip back to his brother took less time than the trek down the trail. He could see the tree before his brother spoke again.

"Because I'm the one that's easily confused?"

"Bite, me. Over and out." Dean said as he reached the tree. He pulled the branches off Sam and smiled at him. _Oh, god, Sam. _

Sam must have noticed the look. "That bad?"

"Not bad at all," Dean said, gently pulling his brother out from under the tree. He helped Sam sit up to lean against the log. Dean swung the pack off his back, pulled a bottle of water out and handed it to Sam, before digging out the first-aid kit. His hands were shaking badly as he set the kit down on the ground. He looked up. "It's not bad."

"Dean?" Sam said, annoyed.

"Are you going to give me the big speech now, Sammy?" Dean asked as he looked into Sam's eyes. His pupils were the same size, but Dean was pretty sure his brother wasn't focusing well.

"Speech, Dean?"

Dean carefully pulled Sam's shirt up to get a better look at the wounds he'd gotten in the punji trap. "You know, the speech." He looked over the wounds the spikes had left, most were shallow, several were deep and there was one long gash in Sam's side. _Oh, god. _"I need to stitch this, Sam."

Sam glanced down at the gash. "That probably needs stitches."

"I just said that."

"You should do it now, Dean."

Something in his brother's tone made his look up. "Sam?"

"I'm kind of numb right now, it'd be a good time to fix that."

Dean smiled. "Good idea. See I told you it wasn't bad." _Nope, not bad, not bad at all. Compared to losing a leg, this is nothing. Keep telling yourself that, you might believe it eventually._

"Dean?" Sam said again.

Dean got the sutures out and started cleaning the wound. "Speech time?"

"What speech?" Sam sucked a breath in. "Damn."

"Sorry, Sammy." He swabbed the wound again before opening the sutures. "You know, _the _speech. The Dean I think I'm old enough speech."

"Shit." Sam hissed as Dean pulled the wound together.

"Sorry."

"It's okay." Sam ground his teeth together. "Oh, that speech."

"I think the first time I heard it you were six or seven." Dean smiled as he carefully put the first stitch in.

"Really?"

"Yeah, you wanted to cook something, and I said no. And you looked at me and said 'Dean, I think I'm old enough to cook.' And I said no again and you started crying."

"Yeah, I think I wanted to make you a birthday cake," Sam said, Dean looked up, Sam had a wistful look on his face. "And then you ended up helping and we tried to frost it while it was still warm."

"Cake looked diseased." Dean chuckled.

"Dyeing the cake green and the frosting purple didn't help." Sam tensed.

"Nope. Dad wouldn't eat any of it. More for us." Dean put another stitch in. "The second time I heard the speech you were nine, then eleven…" Sam moaned a little. "Sorry. I got the speech last time we were camping too."

"Yeah. I might have been a little more insistent than before." Sam clenched his fists. "How many more?"

"A few." Dean looked up, Sam's face was pale. "Shock?"

"Yeah."

"As soon as I finish here, I'll get you someplace safe for the night."

"I know." Sam sighed. "Dean…"

"Time for the speech?" Dean tied off another stitch.

"Dean…"

"Cause I'm not going to listen to that again, Sammy," Dean said, surprised at the emotion in his voice.

"Listen to what?"

"The speech I heard last time."

**Past**

The sun had crept through the sky, warming the forest. The rich scent of pine and fir filled the air, the heady perfume drenching the small campsite on the hill. Dean was carrying a load of firewood up the hill. It was the fifth trip, Sam was beginning to wonder just how big a fire Dean was planning on keeping up. He smiled as he watched his brother. Dean was in full Dean mode. He'd moved camp quickly and efficiently, started a fire and had been busily "preparing the defenses" for at least two hours. Sam suspected all the fussing was covering the worry that he could glimpse in Dean's eyes every time he checked on him. _And to be fair, he probably has a lot to worry about. _Dean dropped the load of firewood on the growing pile and came over to peer at Sam.

Sam smiled at Dean. "What time is it?"

Dean shrugged. "Sometime after noon. I'll get some lunch going here in a minute."

"I'm not really hungry." Sam said, trying to sit up. Dean leaned over and helped Sam ease up. "My stomach is sick." _Understatement of the year. I feel like my stomach is trying to crawl out of my body._

"Food will help," Dean said, feeding the fire and getting the pot out.

"Dean?" Sam rolled his eyes. Dean looked over and chuckled.

"I'll make some soup, how's that? Doesn't require chewing." He put the pot in the fire, added water and dehydrated soup.

"Dean…"

"You are going to eat." Dean glared at him.

"Fine, I'll eat," Sam said grinning.

"No gagging."

Sam laughed. "I was five you know, Dean." His brother looked at him steadily. "Okay, fine, no gagging." He shifted a little, the wound on his chest pulled, sending a shaft of pain through his body. He sucked in a breath and held it till the spasm passed.

"Sammy?" _Trust Dean to catch that. _

"I'm okay, Dean. My chest hurts."

"Let me look." Dean pulled the sleeping bag down and moved the shirt he'd wrapped around Sam. "Sorry," he said when Sam hissed. Sam was watching Dean's face as his brother looked over the wound on his chest and then checked his arms and face. _That bad, Dean? _His brother's face was completely calm, nearly serene. The look came very close to causing a panic attack in Sam. Dean _never_ looked that way unless the world was close to ending. _And even then? Probably only if I was somehow caught in the apocalypse. _

"Still bleeding?"

"Not much."

Sam frowned. "Dean?" _You are lying to me. Someday Dean I'm going to…_

"I'm serious, Sam. It's seeping a little, but not like when I found you. I think it's starting to clot."

"Or I'm running out."

"Not funny, Sammy." Dean drew his brows together in his best angry frown.

Sam shrugged. "It's kind of funny, Dean." He sagged back against the stone. "That soup smells good." _Changing the subject, Dean. All that calm is scaring me._

"I told you, Sam. You need to eat." Dean grinned at him, allowing the change, and poured the soup into a mug. "It's that leek kind you bought."

"I thought you didn't like the leek kind."

"I told you I'd never had the leek kind," Dean said indignantly. "Not even sure what the hell a leek is."

"It's like an onion." Sam smiled. "In Wales they would wear leeks in their caps to show they were Welsh and not Saxon."

"Have I mentioned today you're a geek?" Dean grinned at him.

"Not so far today." Sam smiled back. Dean handed him the mug, watching as he took it. Sam knew his hands were shaking, he saw Dean notice as well. He smiled at Dean.

"You want to tell me how bad it is? Or do I beat it out of you?" Dean asked as he settled down beside Sam. He nudged Sam with his shoulder. "Sammy?"

_How much do I tell him_? "I don't know, really. I feel…"

"Yeah?"

"I don't know. Weak? Tired? Dizzy?" _I feel kind of like I might be dying, Dean. _

"You asking me?"

"Maybe." Sam looked over at him. _Tell me, Dean, I'm going to be okay, right?_

"I don't know, Sammy. Dad should be here soon."

"Am I bleeding to death?"

Dean looked over with a frown. Sam saw the emotion play across his face, fear, worry, a little panic, then the calm, serene look that was worse than all the others."Nah. I told you, I think it's clotting."

"Dean…" _I…Dean…Maybe…_

"What?" Dean snapped, his voice hard. Sam saw the panic flare in his brother's eyes.

"Can I have more soup?"

"What?" Dean blinked at him.

"More soup?" Sam held his cup out to Dean. The mug was trembling violently in his hand. Dean took it, letting his hand curl around Sam's for just a moment. _Checking on me, Dean?_

"This leek stuff isn't that bad," Dean said as he handed the cup back. "Sam?"

"I…" He leaned against Dean's shoulder, suddenly needing the contact.

"It's going to be okay, Sammy." Dean didn't pull away.

"Dean…" _Time to talk._

"No." Dean pulled away from him.

"Dean, I think I'm old enough to know the truth."

"I told you the truth." Dean frowned at him. Sam could see the panic and fear in his brother's eyes.

"No you didn't, I can see it on your face, Dean. You think I can't?"

"Damn it, Sam. It's going to be okay."

"You should go for dad. Leave me here…"

Dean stood and paced away from him. "I already told you no. We're staying here, Sam. Dad'll come for us. First rule of wilderness survival, stay put."

"I'll stay put and you can go for dad." Sam said, struggling out of the sleeping bag. _Whatever was in that dart, it's doing something weird. _The world was spinning before his eyes and the first hint of a fever was beginning to burn his cheeks.

"No." Dean still hadn't turned around, he was staring down the hill, his fists clenched. Sam could see the knuckles white against Dean's tanned hands.

"I can take care of myself, Dean. I'm old enough to handle a day without you," he said, his voice increasing in volume as anger began to get the better of him. "I can manage just fine without you always hovering over me."

"You handled walking up the trail just fine, didn't you?" Dean turned on Sam, his face red. "Oh, wait, I think you ended up as bear bait." Dean was shouting.

"I didn't exactly plan on that!" Sam pushed himself up, hoping to use his height to intimidate his brother. _Cause that works._

"Planned or not, you were the one who was hanging in the freaking tree."

"You think that means I can't take care of myself for one day?"

"That's exactly what I mean, you can't take care of yourself for five minutes on the trail. A whole day? Yeah, right."

Dean was suddenly out of focus. "I can handle myself for one day, Dean. I'm tired of you and dad treating me like I'm still six."

"Maybe you should try not acting like you're six."

"What do you mean?" Sam shouted at Dean, aware the world was wavering around the edges. _Why am I yelling?_

"You had a bit of a temper tantrum before we left, remember? You and dad shouting at each other makes my life just freaking great."

"And you think that makes me six?" Sam took a step towards Dean. "Fine, Dean, I can take care of myself. Just go, find dad and come back."

Dean was trembling, Sam saw his brother clench and unclench his fists. Dean took a deep breath, opened his mouth, then snapped it closed. "Fine," he shouted back and turned around, pacing down the hill.

"Fine!" Sam yelled at his brother's back.

"Fine!" Dean continued down the hill.

"Fine!" The world wavered again. One moment Sam was standing looking down the hill, the next he was laying face down in the pine needles. _Great._

"Sammy!" He heard his brother approaching at high speed. Dean turned him over, propping him against his leg. "Sam!" Dean's voice had the note of panic that Sam knew was reserved only for him. Sam felt his brother's hand press against his neck. He tried to open his eyes, they didn't seem to work right. The eyelids felt like they were pinned down. "Sam?" Panic and now fear were in Dean's voice. _Funny I can hear that so plain. I wonder if anyone else can? His voice sounds calm, but it's not. _"Come on, Sammy." Dean shook him.

Sam struggled to open his eyes, wanting to reassure his brother he was there. They still wouldn't budge. _Okay, fine. Trying something different. _"Dean?" The word came out more as a groan.

"You in there?"

"Yeah."

"Sammy? You there?"

"Yeah." He tried to open his eyes again, he still couldn't, but from the way Dean's hand tightened, Sam knew his brother had heard him.

"Can you open your eyes?"

"Not yet." Sam sighed. "You were right."

"Of course I was. About what?"

"Maybe I can't take care of myself for a day."

"You can," Dean said. Sam heard the apology in his brother's voice. "Just not right now."

"Yeah. Dean…" The world was wavering, Dean's voice sounded like it was coming through water.

"Don't start again, Sam."

"If something happens…" The need to get the words out was keeping him focused.

"Nothing is going to happen. We're getting out of here."

"Dean, I'm old enough…" He paused, drawing a breath, focusing on getting it all out before the world was lost.

"Shut up, Sam."

"If something happens, promise me…"

"Nothing is happening."

"Promise me, if something happens you'll go, get out, find dad."

"Nothing is going to happen," Dean said, annunciating each word carefully.

"Stay till I'm gone, but then, promise me you'll walk out and find dad." The world was drifting away. Sam felt his brother's arms tighten around him. "Promise me you'll leave then."

"No."

It was the last thing Sam heard before the world faded away.

**Present**

"You heard that?" Dean said, putting the last stitch in. _I didn't really mean for you to hear that, Sammy._

"Yeah, I did." Sam sighed as Dean finished.

"You never mentioned it." Dean put everything back in the first-aid kit and tucked it back into the pack.

"I…" Sam looked up at him, then shrugged. "Time to go?"

Dean squinted up at the sun, now well over in the sky and then at the trail. "We need to get someplace before dark."

"Shouldn't we head downstream?"

Dean shook his head. "Can't. The whole trail is booby-trapped. I scouted down about a quarter of a mile. No way we're getting out that way."

"Oh." Sam looked up at him.

"We'll head back up this trail." Dean glanced along the track he'd come down. "There weren't any traps when I was headed this way." _Or I somehow got lucky and missed them. _

"Or you missed them."

"Stop that," Dean said, offering Sam a hand to stand.

"Stop what?"

Dean smiled. "Nothing." He put his arm around Sam's waist to help support his weight.

"I can walk on my own," Sam said, trying to stand up. Dean felt a tremor run down his brother's body as Sam swayed.

"It would be easier if you just let me help."

"Easier?"

"Yeah, that way I don't have to pick you up in a few minutes and carry you all the way."

"Jerk." Sam said, sagging against him.

"Bitch," Dean said, comforted by the exchange as always. _Makes it feel normal. Which it isn't, but what exactly is normal for us anyway? I've wondered once or twice. _

"Dean?"

Dean blinked. _Lack of sleep might be catching up with me. _"Ready, Sammy?"

"You okay?"

Dean laughed. "Hell yeah."

He started up the trail, trying to be careful of the wild roses, letting them rip at him rather than at Sam. They had been walking for about fifteen minutes when a sound across the river stopped them. A barking cough, follow by something that sounded like a howl from behind them, on the other side of the river. _Shit. _Dean froze, the shadows of the willow enveloped them as they stood there. Dean could make out the other bank through the gloom. He saw something moving through the bushes.

"Bipedal," Sam whispered.

"Yeah."

"Human?"

"Don't know." Dean answered, watching the shape moving. "Big."

"Sasquatch?"

"Not that big." Dean tried to get a better look at whoever was across the river. Whatever it was paused to look at something on the ground. It squatted down for a moment and then stood. Dean had a briefly glimpse of its head before its barking call rang out again. The answer came quickly, a bark, a short howl and then three more barks. The shadow across from them answered in a series of barks.

"Code?" Sam asked.

"Sounds like, trying to sound like an animal."

"Human then?" Sam said again.

"Don't know." Dean watched as it moved down the path again. He thought he saw a large foot, shod in an animal skin, before the shadow disappeared into the willows lining the other bank. "Looking for us?" he asked as they started back up the trail. _They know we're on this side, they shot at Sam._

Sam shook his head. "I'm not sure." He stumbled. "Sorry."

"Talk less, walk more," Dean said glancing at Sam. His brother was sweating, Dean could feel tremors running through Sam's body as they walked. _How far can he make it today? Not much further would be my guess. _

"I'm not sure how much further I can go," Sam said quietly.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Nothing." Dean smiled to himself. He started looking around for someplace to make camp. _We need someplace I can defend, those hunters aren't going to leave anytime soon. _The forest was moving from cottonwoods to fir trees and aspen as they walked. _We're climbing again. _"You with me?"

"Yeah," Sam said, his voice rough.

"Sammy?"

"I can make it a little further."

"Okay." Dean looked around again, they had moved away from the river. The forest was thinning a little and he could see the valley wall to his left. He steered them onto a game trail that led to the side of the valley. There was a large flow of ancient lava and he thought he could make out the dark mouth of a cave about halfway up the hill. It was further than he had thought, but the time they reached the bottom of the hill, Sam's steps were dragging and Dean could hear his brother's ragged breathing over the sounds of the forest.

"Dean…"

"Almost there, Sam." Dean led his brother towards a stone at the base of the lava flow. "I'm going up to check that cave out." He pointed up the hill. "I'm not carrying you up there till I'm sure it'll work." Sam nodded as he sank down on the stone. "Sam?"

"I…kay…"

"Sure you are. I'll be right back." Dean dropped the pack beside his brother and started up the hill. _Steep. It'll be hard getting him up here, but the cliff is sheer above that cave so nothing can come at us that way. _Dean got to the ledge in front of the cave and carefully eased along it. Reaching the cave, he pulled out his small flashlight and shone it in. The cave was small. _But big enough. _There was a small opening at the back, of the cave, its dark mouth gaping like a wound in the rock wall. _Nothing can come through there but a rat. Okay, time to drag Sam up the hill. _Dean looked over the ledge, he'd come up farther than he thought. His eyes sought the rock where he'd left his brother. Sam was lying beside it.

"Sam!" Dean plunged down the hill, somehow keeping his feet under him in his headlong dash. "Sam?" He turned his brother over.

"Sorry, fell off," Sam said, opening his eyes. "First rule of wilderness survival, stay put."

"Ha ha." Dean's heart was slamming against his ribs. "It'll work, think you can make it?"

"Sure," Sam said as Dean pulled him to his feet. Sam's knees buckled as soon as he was up. "With help." He smiled at Dean.

"Nope, you have to do it on your own. You're old enough. Hang on." Dean leaned Sam up against the stone. "Just don't fall over again." He pulled the rope out of the pack and tied one end to his belt, the other to the pack. "This way I don't have to come back down and get it." Dean pulled Sam's arm over his shoulders and then put his arm around Sam's waist. "Up we go."

It took longer than he'd hoped. The sun was almost gone when they finally reached the ledge in front of the cliff. Dean was panting with the effort of helping Sam up the hill. Sam was silent, his movements mechanical. Dean eyed the ledge, then glanced down the hill. Sam must have known what he was thinking.

"I can crawl," Sam said.

"What?"

"Along the ledge. I think I can crawl, that way I won't fall." Sam dragged his arm off of Dean's shoulders and dropped carefully down onto all fours. Dean watched his halting progress along the ledge. At one point Sam's hand slipped off the edge and he went down hard. "I'm okay," Sam called before Dean could reach him. Sam disappeared into the cave. Dean was right behind him.

"Your chin is a mess," Dean said, lifting his brother's face. _Actually, Sammy, you're a mess._

"Yeah, it kind of hurts."

"I'll get the first-aid kit." Dean walked back to the ledge and hauled the pack up the hill. He cleaned the blood off Sam's chin and bandaged the scrape. He noticed that Sam's other wounds were still seeping. _Like before. No. God, no. _"I'm going to get a little firewood, I'll be right back and then I'll set up your bed, okay?" Sam just nodded, his eyes closed.

Dean eased along the ledge to the far side of the cave. He'd noticed a fallen tree on the way p the hill. Reaching it, he broke off several large limbs, the snap sounding like a gunshot in the quiet forest. Three trips and he had a good sized pile of wood. He build the fire at the edge of their cave, far enough out to make sure that anything that wanted in would have to come through the fire, close enough to warm their small shelter.

"Won't they see the fire?" Sam asked as Dean helped him into his sleeping bag.

"We need it warm, I need to make food and they have to come through that to get to us."

"Okay." Sam leaned back. "I'm still bleeding."

"I know."

"Dean…"

"Shut up," Dean snapped. When Sam opened his mouth again, Dean held his hand up. "Shh."

"What?"

"Be quiet, Sam." His brother caught the tone and was silent. Dean cocked his head, trying to hear the sound he thought he'd heard a moment before. _What was that? _Sam frowned, watching him.

"What?" Sam mouthed silently.

Dean shook his head and was about to tell his brother it was nothing when he heard it again. The barking cough of the hunters. Sam met his eyes. The call had come from somewhere in the night, somewhere beyond the fire.

"Other side of the river," Sam said soundlessly.

Dean shook his head, waiting for what he knew would come, hating the fact he'd heard it, hoping he'd been wrong.

Then it came. Another bark. It echoed up from somewhere beneath him, flowing out of the small mouth at the back of the cave.

_Oh my god. They're behind us. They're in the mountain behind us. _

_**To Be Continued**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Welcome to the Jungle**

**Chapter Six**

The cave was nearly silent, the only sound the echoing of the coughing bark bouncing around the walls. Dean took a deep breath, the bark sounded again, this time from outside the cave, somewhere beyond their fire. He glanced over at Sam, his brother was watching him, a small frown on his face. Dean grinned, it was a little lopsided, he knew, but Sam's answering smile made him feel better.

"Just freaking great," Dean said, looking around the cave.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked.

"Looking for something to shove in that hole." Dean picked up a rock and carried it over to the small opening at the back of the cave. He pushed the stone into the hole and, using another rock as a hammer, wedged the stone into the opening.

"Think that will stop them?"

"Harder to get something through it now, at least." Sam was smiling at him, his eyebrows up. "Fine." Dean shrugged. "It makes me feel better."

"Makes me feel better, too," Sam said. "Dean…" His brother's eyes suddenly rolled up in his head.

"Sam!" Dean managed to get to him before Sam's head hit the ground. "Sam!"

His eyelids fluttered a little. "I…Dean?" Sam muttered.

"Sam?" Dean shook his brother. "Can you open your eyes?" _How long was he out last time before I found him? It was morning when he was hit. I found him in the late afternoon. Was he out that whole time?_

"Trying." Sam's eyes opened a fraction. "I feel…"

"What?" Dean asked, tucking his coat under Sam's head.

"I don't know, really. Like I'm drunk? Stoned?"

"Are you asking me?"

"Maybe."

Dean grabbed the sleeping bag and the small pad that went under it. He let the pad inflate before smoothing the sleeping bag over it. "Want to lie down?"

"Dean?" Sam smiled at him.

"I meant want to lie down someplace a little more comfortable," Dean said as he helped his brother over to the sleeping bag.

"How bad am I bleeding?" Sam asked.

"Not bad," Dean said. _Not gushing, how's that, Sammy? _

"Does that mean not bad or not gushing, Dean?"

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Nothing." Dean grinned at him. "Not as bad as last time. I got the dart out fast this time."

"I did get hit? I thought I'd been stung…" Sam smiled. "Should have known."

"Yep, shoulda. I'll get dinner on here in a sec." He rummaged around in the backpack and pulled out a bottle of pills. "You need to take some of these." He shook six pills out and passed them over to Sam.

"What are they?" Sam looked at the pills then up at Dean.

"They'll help." _God I hope they'll help. _Sam made a grab for the bottle. "Hey."

"Slow flow menstrual support?" Sam read the label aloud. "Dean?"

"I, uh, I…" Dean handed Sam a bottle of water. "She said they'd help."

"Who said they'd help what?"

"I went to a health food store after the last camping trip…" Dean got a pan out of the backpack. "I swore I would never let something like that happen again."

"Something like my bleeding out?"

"Something exactly like that. Hey, want hash?" Dean smiled as he pulled out a bag of his homemade hash mix.

"Sure." Sam pulled the sleeping bag up a little. "So, you went to a health food store? I'm having a hard time imagining that, Dean."

Dean smiled, remembering his visit to the small store. "Well, it wasn't the freak fest they usually are."

"Nice you keep an open mind."

"Those places are more your kind of thing. All that patchouli makes me nervous." Dean stirred the hash. "It wasn't bad and the proprietor…She knew a lot."

"About…?"

"Everything, Sammy," Dean said with a leer. Sam rolled his eyes. "I asked her for something to help with bleeding. She told me about several things, but this one had most of them…Vitamin K, shepherd's purse, yarrow, iron…She said it would help slow bleeding. I did try to get the label off the bottle, you know." Dean shrugged. "I always said you were a bit of a girl…"

"Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean smiled. "Take the pills."

"Do you really think they'll help?"

"She said they would. She said she had clients with bleeding disorders and it helped." Dean checked the hash and stirred it again. "Couldn't hurt, Sam." _Please, take them Sam. Don't make me shove them down your throat. She said they would help and, please, Sam…not like… _"And anything is better than…"

"Dean?" Sam said softly. He looked up at Sam, concern clearly on his face. "Better than…?"

"Last time." The words grated out of him, harsh. He could hear the emotion in his voice, Sam must have heard it too, his brother shifted just enough so he was in contact with Dean.

"I didn't die, Dean, see here I am." Sam nudged him. Dean fought the emotion that was suddenly there, a huge lump pressing against his throat. _I would appreciate it if you tears would just stay in my head, okay? No crying in front of Sammy. _"Dean?" Sam said.

"But you did…" Dean broke off. "Or as damn near as you could come…" He looked at Sam. "It's why…"

"Why?" Sam's voice was compassionate, gentle.

"Why I hate camping, Sammy."

**Past**

The forest was noisy, birds singing a variety of songs from the surrounding trees, a squirrel chattering from the bushes at the bottom of the hill, the wind whispering through the trees, like running water. A hawk called from somewhere over Dean's head. None of that existed for him, not until he heard a soft inhale from his brother. Dean let out the breath he'd been holding. He let his head drop down against Sam's for a second, he calmed his breathing and let his heart slow down from the frantic pace it had set when Sam collapsed.

"You scare me like that again, Sammy, and I'll kill you myself," Dean said, lifting his head and looking at his brother. Blood was trickling down Sam's face, Dean could see the bandage on his brother's chest was soaked with blood.

"Let's get you back in bed," he said, standing and pulling his brother up. He half-carried, half-dragged Sam up the hill to the sleeping bag and set him down. He carefully checked the wounds, replacing bandages that had become soaked with blood. _You're still bleeding, Sammy. I think it's a little slower, but I can't be sure. _When he finished, he pulled the bag up as high as it would go, then laid his own sleeping bag over Sam, tucking it under his shoulders.

Dean grabbed the coffee pot, swirling the coffee grounds out of the blue-enameled pot with more violence than he intended and ended up with coffee grounds down his front. _Just freaking great. _He filled the pot and set it in the fire before pulling dry clothes out of his pack. As he changed, he thought he heard the odd coughing bark in the far distance. It echoed through the valley, bouncing off the walls. _Up by where we were going to meet dad. God, I hope he's okay, he has to rescue us. _The thought of having to wait for their father to rescue them made Dean a little uneasy. _He's going to be on my ass about this. Letting this happen. And he's right. I should never…I know better. If I'd been behind him, he wouldn't have gotten hit. I know dad, my mistake. But if I'd been behind him and it had happened…I can't win. _Dean sighed.

The coffee reached a boil and he pulled it out of the fire. After letting it sit for a minute, he dribbled cold water into the pot to settle the grounds. "Camp coffee, Sammy, got to love the extra fiber." He poured a cup then checked on Sam. His brother's forehead felt warm to the touch. _Fever? But why? Something to do with the dart? Sam, come on. _Dean walked up the hill and peeked over the top. Nothing was moving in the forest below, turning he walked down the hill, looking in both directions until he reached the game trail at the bottom.

Back up the hill and more coffee, check on Sam, over the top of the ridge, down again, side to side. More coffee, check on Sam, more coffee, pacing up and down. Dean finally stopped and made another pot of coffee. He sat down beside Sam, and waited impatiently while it sat in the fire.

A small sound made him turn. "Sammy?"

"Dean?" It came out as a groan.

"Hey," Dean said.

"You're still here?" Sam asked softly, his eyes slowly opening.

"Nope, long gone, Sammy. Sitting in the Denny's having breakfast."

"You should go."

"You have a one track mind, Sam," Dean said. "But I told you, we're waiting for dad."

"After I'm dead?"

"You are not going to die," Dean growled. He paced away, dug through the pack and pulled out a packet of protein powder. "I'll make you a mocha, that'll help."

"Dean…"

"Shut up, Sam." Dean poured coffee into Sam's mug and carefully stirred in the powder. He smiled as he handed the cup to Sam. "That'll help."

Sam shifted up to lean against the large rock. "You said that twice. I'm convinced." He smiled at Dean, took a sip and made a face. "What is this?"

"Mocha."

"It's…" Sam took another drink. "Thick and slimy, Dean."

"It's mocha," Dean repeated stubbornly. Sam looked at him, his eyebrows up, that look of gentle irony Dean knew his brother only directed at him. "Okay, it's a mocha made with protein powder. I thought…"

Sam smiled. "I'll gag it down, but I think it's getting thicker."

Dean sat down beside Sam, letting his shoulder rest against his brother. "Well then drink it fast."

"It's hot."

"Don't whine."

"I'm not," Sam said, his voice weak. He took another drink, making a show of swallowing the thick liquid.

Dean grinned at him. "Very brave. I'm not sure it was the best idea I've ever had."

Sam smiled back. "It's a good idea, the execution left something to be desired."

"You don't have to drink it," Dean said, peering into the cup, getting a good look at the gray slime.

"It doesn't taste that bad, it's just thick." Sam took another drink. "I could almost chew it now." Dean noticed Sam's hand was shaking badly, making it hard to drink.

"Here," Dean said, putting his hand around Sam's to steady it and help him take a drink. _His hands are cool. _

"Thanks." Sam rolled his head over to look at Dean. "Now what?"

"We wait for dad. He should be here soon."

"Dean…"

"We are not starting that again, Sam. Just shut up about it."

"You said I could take care of myself."

"I think I added 'just not right now.' So, don't, okay?" Dean looked at Sam, blood was still trickling down Sam's face and…_Oh god._

Sam caught his look. "What is it, Dean?" He rubbed a hand across his face. "Nose bleeding?" Sam asked, his voice calm. Dean could hear fear under the calm tone.

"Just a little, Sammy, put your head back." Dean tucked a paper towel under his brother's nose before applying pressure. _All dad's first-aid training is paying off. _Dean kept the pressure on for several minutes and pulled his hand away. The bleeding hadn't slowed.

"Didn't help?"

"Sure it did."

"Exsanguination."

"Come again, random?"

"Exsanguination." Sam smiled hazily.

"Yeah?"

"It's what they call it when you lose all your blood."

"You are not going to bleed out, Sam." Dean said, keeping his voice calm. _He is bleeding, I can't stop it. We are too far out for help to get here in time. Oh, god, he's dying. And I can't help. We're too far away from anywhere. Maybe camping isn't a good thing. Maybe it's a bad thing. I think I hate it._

"Do you think your calm voice makes me feel better?" Sam asked, letting his head drop against Dean. "Cause it doesn't. You only get calm when the world is ending."

"The world is not ending, Sam."

"I might be."

"Stop being dramatic." Dean took Sam's cup and rinsed it out, trying not to shift his brother too much in the process. "Don't want that glue to set."

"No," Sam said, his voice hazy. "I don't feel good, Dean."

"I know, Sammy, but dad will be here soon. It'll be okay."

"Yeah." Sam leaned against Dean, his eyes closing. "I'm glad you didn't leave."

"Yeah, told you." Dean poured himself another coffee and leaned back against the rock. He hadn't slept much the night before. _Or the night before. A little nap might be a good idea if I'm staying up tonight as well._ He looked up at the dappled sunlight playing on the leaves of the trees overhead. Sam's breathing evened out. Dean shifted a little, took a drink of coffee, put the cup on the ground and fell asleep to the song of the birds playing in his ears.

The snap of a twig woke him. Dean blinked, the sun was down, the fire only glowing embers. _I didn't mean to sleep that long. _He could hear something moving on the game trail below. He looked down the hill, a deer and her fawns walked placidly by. _Nice it wasn't a bear. _

"Hey, sleepyhead," Sam said softly.

"You should have got me up when you woke up, Sammy," he chided gently.

"You needed sleep, Dean. You didn't sleep last night, or much of the night before. I kept watch." Sam smiled.

"Sam…" _What if something happened? What if…?_

"I'll admit there was one close call."

"What?" Dean almost shouted, as his heart began pounding.

"Well this chipmunk stopped by…" Sam was grinning at him. "I was pretty worried for a minute…but he wasn't the flesh eating variety."

"Oh, ha ha, Sammy. I need to fix the fire and get some soup on." Dean gently lifted Sam off his shoulder.

"Sure, soup sounds good," Sam said, watching him.

"I told you bringing all this wood here was a good idea." Dean said with a smirk. He put twigs and branches on to the embers, carefully feeding the fire until he had a strong blaze. Dean put the pan in the fire and added water. "Ready for some soup?" He glanced over his shoulder at Sam. Something caught his eye. Dean looked at his shirt, the shoulder Sam had been leaning on was covered with blood. "Sam?"

"Yeah?" Sam said. Dean noticed how weak his brother's voice was.

Dean got up and walked to Sam. Picking up his flashlight he shone it on Sam's face. The cuts were still trickling. Sam's nose was still bleeding and… _No, no, no, no. _The word repeated itself with increasing volume in Dean's head.

Sam was bleeding from his ears.

**Present**

The light from the fire was flickering inside the cave. A loud pop from a pitchy branch pulled Dean back to the present. He blinked, aware his hands were shaking with remembered terror. _I thought I was going to lose him. _Dean scrubbed a hand across his face, not surprised when he detected a little damp under his eyes. _Just freaking great. How many times do I have to tell you? No crying in front of Sammy! _He cleared his throat and glanced over at his brother. Sam was watching him, a frown on his face, eyes partially closed.

"Sam?"

"Still here, Dean," Sam said softly. "I…"

Dean stood and looked out of the cave, peering into the dark night beyond. Nothing was moving on the moonlit slope or in the forest below. "Get some sleep." He turned back to Sam.

"You sleep, I can watch for awhile," Sam said.

"Sure." Dean fed the fire and dropped down beside Sam. "Great idea, and if they come? You throw blood at them?"

"I wake you." Sam rolled his eyes. "I can manage waking you."

"No," Dean said, frowning when Sam opened his mouth to reply. "No. You need to sleep. We have to start walking tomorrow."

"What happened to 'when you're lost stay put'?"

"I don't think that applies if things are hunting you."

"You think they are?" Sam asked, looking at him intently. "Hunting us?"

Dean shrugged. "Don't know if it's us personally or us in general, but yeah, I think they are."

"What are they?"

"You're the geek boy, I thought you might have an idea."

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. Humans? If so they're big. There was a report of a wendigo once. We know it's not the sasquatches, unless one of them has become a cannibal."

"Wendigos…" Dean paused. "Ever notice how we had never heard of one this far west, and since Colorado we run into them a lot?"

"We weren't looking for them, I guess."

"Next you'll tell me vampires exist." Dean snorted. "Get some sleep, Sam." When Sam was silent, Dean looked over at his brother. "What?"

"I don't want to sleep."

"Sam?" Dean said, smiling in spite of himself. Sam sounded a lot like he had when he was about five.

"I don't want to," Sam repeated. "I…whatever was in that dart…" Sam stopped, looking confused.

_He's afraid to sleep. _"How about you sleep and I wake you every hour?"

"Okay, Dean," Sam said with a smile, his eyes closing. "In an hour."

"An hour, Sam."

Dean waited until his brother drifted off to sleep before he got up again. He walked to the mouth of their cave and looked out. Nothing was moving, but he had the oddest sense that they were being watched. He could feel it as a knot of tension at the base of his neck. Rolling his head, he tried to ease the knot, but it wouldn't go away. He picked up the Henry, used a stick to shove the burning branches aside and stepped out into the dark, pushing the logs back into place. Once away from the light of the fire, he stopped to let his eyes adjust.

It was a remarkably bright night. Dean could see his shadow against the hillside. He took a deep breath, the night air was fresh, full of the cool scent of moisture, aspen, cottonwoods and fir trees. Under the pleasant smell of the forest he detected something a little harsher, a little less pleasant. He turned so the wind was blowing against his face. _Nice, the sweet scent of death and charred flesh. Lovely night. _

Dean walked further away, looking up at the cliff towering over his head. The rock face was sheer, only a small slit that might be a trail, darker against the cliff face. Movement above him caught his eyes. He froze, waiting, feeling exposed on the bright slope. On instinct he crouched down, hoping to give himself the profile of a rock. _No one down here but us rocks. _He held still, watching the top of the cliff. A shape, dark against the stars, appeared for a instant and then disappeared. Dean stayed unmoving, eyes trained upwards. The shape appeared again and a rock slammed into his back. Dean held still and bit down on the exclamation that threatened. Another rock, it hit a small stone in front of him with a resounding crack. The dark shape disappeared.

Dean remained where he was for a count of two hundred. When nothing else appeared, and the sounds of the night went undisturbed, Dean finally stood, walking slowly back towards the cave. He shoved the fire aside and slid into the comfortable warmth of their shelter. Sam was snoring softly. Dean nudged his brother with his foot. Sam muttered, Dean shook him.

"What?" Sam grumbled sleepily.

"Are you awake?"

"No." Sam shifted in the sleeping bag. "Go away."

"Okay, Sammy, wake you in an hour."

"Thanks, Dean."

"Sure." Dean settled down and dragged the coffee pot out of the pack. He realized he'd been staring at it for several minutes. _Okay, might actually need to sleep for a minute or two. _He built the fire up, put the Henry on his lap, powered on his cell phone, set the alarm for an hour and let his eyes close. The alarm woke him an hour later. He shook Sam awake, fed the fire and set the alarm again. The next time the alarm sounded, he got up and looked outside the cave. It was still quiet. He thought he could hear the first song of a bird greeting the morning. He set the alarm one more time and went to sleep.

"Dean?" His brother's voice invaded a dream. "Dean?"

The urgent tone brought Dean to complete awareness. "What is it?" He opened his eyes and looked out of the cave. Sun was bright on the hillside.

"I heard something." Sam looked at him. "It …" A gurgling scream sounded over the quiet forest. "There it is again. It was quieter last time."

"Whoever that is—they're having a bad day." Dean said grabbing the coffee pot. He was trying hard to stay calm, the scream sounded human. The urge to find the sufferer and help somehow was hard to push away.

"Yeah," Sam said softly. "Can you tell where it's coming from?"

"Outside?"

"That's helpful, Dean."

"We can't help, Sammy. I hate to say it, but we can't. Not right now. We have to let it…" The cry filled the air again, Dean ground his teeth together. "We have to let it go."

Dean made coffee and breakfast. They sat together quietly while they ate, the gentle sounds of the forest were occasionally marred by the gurgling scream. After they'd finished, Dean checked Sam's wounds. The slash in Sam's side looked a little puffy around the stitches, several others were beginning to look red, they were all still seeping blood. _Not bad, though, not like last time. _

"Time for your pills," Dean said, dumping six pills into Sam's hand. Dean looked at the label, grinned and opened his mouth.

"Don't even say it. Nothing, Dean." Sam said sternly.

"Ah, Sammy, come on. Just one?"

"No, nothing."

"Fine."

They were ready to go within an hour. Dean had been periodically checking the hillside and looking up the cliff to where the dark shape had been the night before. _So far, so good. _"Ready?"

"Yeah."

"I thought we'd walk along this ledge for as long as we can." Dean looked at him. "Think you can make it?"

Sam walked slowly to the mouth of the cave and looked along the ledge. "I think so, but isn't that the wrong direction?"

"We know we can't go down this side of the river, we have to cross it again. It seems to me it was shallower up above, before that stream joined up with it."

"Okay, let's go." Sam stumbled, steadied himself on the wall and eased out onto the ledge.

Dean followed, keeping one eye on his brother, another on the bottom of the hill. He could see small animals moving in the bushes, birds were flitting in the trees. The ledge, a shelf of lava, was slowly heading down to the valley below.

"Sam, you need to take a break," he said when his brother stumbled.

"I'm okay, Dean," Sam mumbled as Dean caught up with him.

"Sure you are. Sit." Dean gently pushed his brother down onto the slope. "I need to check your wounds any way."

"I'm fine, Dean."

_Oh, you are so not fine, Sammy. _Dean pulled his brother's shirt up and got a good look at several of the deep wounds the punji trap had left. All were red and puffy, angry looking. They were all still seeping blood. "Of course you are," Dean said. "Time for…"

"Dean, I mean it, not a word about the pills." Sam stuck his hand out, Dean dropped six pills into his hand and handed Sam the water bottle. "Thanks."

"Yep." Dean took off the pack and sat down beside Sam. He fished around until he found the package of beef jerky. "Want some?" Sam shook his head. "You have to eat later."

"I know," Sam said, his eyes closing. He leaned back against the hillside.

"Right." Dean pulled the binoculars out of the pack and looked around the valley. He spotted a deer moving along the river on the other side. He could make out the trail he and Sam had traveled on their way up the valley. Dean was watching a bright blue and black bird flitting through the trees when something bigger moved into view. _What the hell? _He held his breath, so the binoculars would stay perfectly still, so he could focus on what he thought he saw. "Shit."

"Dean?"

"Nothing."

"Try again, Dean." Sam sat up and looked at him. "What is it?"

Dean handed his brother the binoculars. "Down there, just to the left of that dead tree."

Sam looked, then Dean saw his brother take a breath and hold it. "Shit."

"Sam? Is that…? Are they…?" _Oh god, oh no, oh please._

Sam looked at him, fear flashing in his eyes. "God, I hope not," he whispered, his voice full of horror.

_**To Be Continued**_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: I meant to have this chapter up a little sooner, but ( for those of you who don't know) I am back on bed rest and after being busted with the computer in bed it was taken away and the internet unplugged at the source. I'm allowed a very few hours a day. I'll catch up on review replies soon! Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing._

**Welcome to the Jungle**

**Chapter Seven**

The sun was warm on the hillside, puffy white clouds drifted across the pale blue sky, the grass on the hill was spring green. The forest was starting to warm up, the scent of pine and cottonwood drifted on the air. Birds were flitting between bushes by the river. Dean was watching Sam's face as his brother took another look through the binoculars.

"Sam?" Dean asked, his voice reflecting the shock on his brother's face.

Sam looked over at him as he handed the binoculars back. "Dean?"

Dean looked back across the river. "Shit."

The gurgling scream tore through the air, the agonized sound silencing the other noises of the forest. "They're eating it alive," Sam said, his voice a mixture of horror and disgust.

"At least we don't have to worry about the wendigo," Dean said grimly. "That's what we heard screaming." _Not human…thank god…I feel kind of bad for it, though._

"At least it's not human," Sam said with a sigh of relief. "I feel a little sorry for it."

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Nothing. It probably killed and ate a few people over the years."

"I know, but butchered and eaten alive?" Sam shuddered.

"If I thought a bullet would help…" Dean picked up the Henry Rifle and looked through the scope. "But it wouldn't kill it, and it would let them know we're over here."

"You don't think they know?" Sam asked.

"They know we're here, I don't think they know exactly where we are. Last night something checked out the cave…They dropped a couple of rocks on me, but I was hiding."

"Hiding?" Sam said, eyebrows up.

"I was nothing but a big lump on the hill." Dean grinned, took another look through the binoculars, then looked back at Sam. There were three of the creatures standing in front of the wendigo. It was hanging suspended from a tree. They were wearing clothing made from animal skins and dark colored, Dean couldn't decide if it was their skin color or they were smeared with blood, paint or soot of some kind. One of the creatures had leggings and moccasins on. "Do you know what they are?"

"No." Sam laid back down against the hill, looking up at the clouds drifting overhead. "I'll go through dad's journal when we stop again."

"You need to rest a little longer, Sam," Dean said, frowning with concern.

"I think we should keep going," Sam said, sitting up.

Something about his brother's voice alerted Dean. "Sammy?"

"I'm not sure how long…" Sam shrugged. "We should keep going."

Dean looked at his brother for a long moment. _Sam? What aren't you telling me? _Sam's face was pale, he was sweating a little. Dean could see dampness on Sam's shirt where the wounds were seeping. Sam was holding his left arm against his side. "Sam?"

"I'm okay right now, Dean," Sam said with a sigh. "We have to keep going." He pushed himself up, swaying for a minute as Dean stood and pulled the pack on. "I'll take point." Sam grinned.

"Good thinking, and if you see anything?"

"Throw blood at them?"

"Either that or faint at them, that'll scare them off." Dean tried to keep his voice light. His heart was slamming against his ribs. _He's in bad shape. Worse than I thought, he can barely walk. I'll have to get us someplace safe. I don't think we're walking out of here. No one is coming for us this time. _He briefly considered turning back to the cave they'd spent the night in. _No, they were looking for us there, they could probably smell the fire through that hole and I have no idea how close they actually were. We go on._

The ledge they were walking on was gradually dipping into the valley. Dean was keeping an eye on the tree line as it approached, concerned that the thick forest could be hiding something. He was relying on the animals to warn him if something was lurking below. He could see birds flitting between the bushes, a squirrel was chattering from a tree, another was bounding around on the ground and, down by the water, Dean could just make out the outline several deer.

"There are a lot of animals moving around down there," Sam said from up ahead.

"I noticed that, more than we've seen since we got up here." Dean paused to look across the river, as they dropped into the trees it was getting harder to see the other bank. "Think that means something?"

"I'm not sure," Sam said, sounding out of breath. "It could."

"But what?" Dean asked, focusing on his brother. Sam was stumbling on every third or fourth step, his feet were dragging, almost as if they were too heavy to lift and he was carrying his left arm tight against his side, not letting it move at all.

"I don't know. It's funny, we've seen traps on this side, we heard them, you saw them over the hill, but you know, when they were following me in the river…" Sam stopped and leaned against a tree. "They didn't stay long on this side."

Dean caught up with Sam. "But they were behind us in the mountain."

"What if they use an opening from the other side of the hill? Maybe there's something about this side of the river?" Sam closed his eyes, breathing heavily.

"Be nice to know what it is. Sam…" Dean said.

"I can go a little further, Dean." Sam pushed himself away from the tree, his knees buckling as he did. Dean caught him and put Sam's right arm over his shoulder.

"I know," Dean said, as Sam leaned against him. "We'll find someplace and I'll make some food. I have a surprise in the pack."

"A surprise?" Sam stumbled, Dean caught him and shifted more of his brother's weight onto himself.

"Yeah, something I've been saving," Dean said with a smile. _He can't go much further, no matter what he says. I'm almost carrying him. _

"Dean? Look," Sam said softly about fifteen minutes later.

"What?" Dean looked away from the opposite bank where he could see a shadow moving, following their halting progress.

"Look," Sam said again, his breath coming out in a gasp.

Dean looked around, trying to figure out what his brother was looking at. "What?"

"I think this is an old homestead. Those are fruit trees of some kind," Sam said, waiting for the exhale to speak. "I think…" Sam's legs suddenly went out from under him. Dean managed to catch him and lower him to the ground before they both fell.

"Time to stop."

"I'm okay, Dean, we need to keep going," Sam said, trying to push himself back up.

"This looks like a deer bed," Dean said, scouting around under the flowering trees. "First one of those I've seen." He stopped and glanced around the clearing again. "I have a feeling we should stay. More wildlife…it's a clearing so I can see a bit and maybe…hmmm…They aren't as active on this side, except for the traps." Dean dropped the pack on the ground. "I'm going to make sure there are no traps here, get a fire going and set up camp. You rest."

Sam opened his mouth, looked at Dean and snapped it closed. "Fine."

"Good boy," Dean said as he wandered around the clearing. He could see a vine running across the path on the other side of the fruit trees, but it was well beyond their clearing. On the other side there was a similar trap, but it, too was set in the forest, away from the homestead. _I wonder what that means?_

There were three huge stones by the river. Dean could hear the water gurgling on the other side of the rocks. He slipped between them there was barely room to squeeze through. The river was on the other side of the rock, a small bank with a mossy log in the center, aspen bordered the bank on either side of the stones. Dean looked across the river. The other bank was covered with willows and the remains of a cottonwood. There was a game trail along the edge of the water. Turning, Dean looked back towards their clearing. He could see the ring of fruit trees, but Sam was hidden from view. _That's helpful._

There was movement on the other side of the river. Dean squeezed back between the stones, peering through the crack to the other side. He saw one of the hunters break through the willows. Dean held his breath, not daring to move. The creature was taller than Sam, and thickly muscled. Dean still couldn't tell if the gray-black was the color of its skin or some kind of paint. It paused, sniffing the air. Dean could feel the wind in his face, so he was fairly sure the creature couldn't smell him. It barked. Dean could see sharp teeth in the dark mouth.

There was an answering bark and another creature walked onto the bank, it stood with the first and they conversed in low voices. Dean could just make it out over the sound of the river. He couldn't understand the language they were speaking, but they were definitely speaking to each other. The first creature gestured up the river, the other nodded and walked slowly along the opposite bank. _But they didn't come here. Why? _

Dean walked back to where he'd left Sam. His brother was lying in the grass with his eyes closed. "Sam?"

"I'm here," Sam said, opening his eyes.

"I'll get a fire going and get some food on. I owe you that surprise," Dean said. "I found a fire ring back under those trees, think you can get that far?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I think I can make it that far." He sat up, and tried to stand, dropping back on the grass. "I might need help."

"No problem." Dean hauled his brother to his feet and helped him over to the old fire ring. He settled Sam against a tree and started gathering enough fuel to get a fire going. Once he had a nice blaze he brought the pack over and set it beside Sam. "You ready to eat?"

"Could you check my shoulder first?" Sam asked.

"Shoulder?" _It looked okay when I checked it, didn't it? Or was I too worried about…_

"From the second trap?"

"I know," Dean snapped. He helped Sam out of his coat, eased the t-shirt away from the wound and lifted the bandage. _Oh no._

"Dean?" Sam was watching his face.

"Looking good, Sammy," Dean said with a smile. "Let's just clean it out while the bandage is off, okay?"

"You know the cheerful thing is more terrifying than the calm thing?" Sam pulled his t-shirt off.

"Cheerful thing?" Dean asked, digging in the backpack for the first aid kit and a bottle of water.

"You get perky sometimes, Dean. It's never a good thing."

"I'm not perky." Dean pulled the bandage all the way off. _Oh, god, oh no. _"This won't take long."

"You're perky."

"I'm not," Dean said, pouring water over the wound on his brother's shoulder. _Why is this so bad? Was there something on that tree? _"Why didn't you mention this sooner?"

"It wasn't that bad until…" Sam stopped.

"Sam?" Dean tried to get the gunk out of the wound as gently as possible.

"Damn," Sam hissed.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. It wasn't bad, or I didn't notice until after I got hit with the dart yesterday. I just noticed the smell." Sam looked over at the wound. "That's not good."

"It's fine, Sam." Dean poured more water into the wound, trying soften it up enough to clean it. Dean grabbed an alcohol swab out of the first -aid kit. "This'll sting."

"Right," Sam said, grinding his teeth together. Dean saw tears in his brother's eyes.

"Sorry, Sammy," he said gently.

"You think the other ones will get like that?" Sam asked as he watched Dean.

"It's not bad, Sam." Dean snapped angrily, aware of the fear in his voice. "Not bad at all."

"Now the angry thing?" Sam smiled. "I'm in trouble."

"What are you talking about?"

"The four phases of Dean," Sam said.

"What the hell are you talking about, Sam?"

"The four phases of Dean," Sam repeated. "Damn, Dean, that hurts."

"Sorry," he said. "And I so I don't have four phases, dude."

"You do, it's how you've always handled things." Sam closed his eyes. "First you're calm—dad gets like that, too."

"Calm is good, there's nothing wrong with calm."

"There is when you get calm. Then comes phase two."

"I don't have a phase two," Dean said as he desperately tried to clean the wound.

"Yeah, you do. Cheerful and then cheerful becomes perky. Phase two. It means disaster is imminent or you are about to get homicidal."

"I don't get perky."

"Oh, yeah, you do. Then phase three, angry. That's when you get homicidal. Or when disaster finally strikes, but you are madly trying to deny it."

"I don't…"

"Yeah, you do. Are you almost finished?" Sam said, tears trickling down his face.

"Close. Sorry." Dean opened another swab. "That's only three, Sammy."

"Three?" Sam asked.

"Three phases, Sammy." Dean was watching his brother. Sam was starting to fade. "Sam?"

"Huh?"

"The fourth phase?"

"It's the worse one, the one that means the world has pretty much ended."

"What's that?"

Sam opened his eyes and met Dean's. "Resignation."

**Past**

Dean was transfixed, horrified by the trickles of blood running from Sam's ears. _Oh no, oh god, oh no, oh god. _A loud pop from the fire pulled his focus away from the litany playing in his head. He looked at Sam, his brother was watching him.

"That bad?" Sam asked softly.

"Nothing to worry about, Sammy," Dean said with a forced grin.

"I'm bleeding from my ears, aren't I?"

"Nah." Dean tore off a paper towel and mopped the blood off Sam's neck.

"Then what're you doing?"

"You're a mess. Just cleaning you up a bit before we eat." Dean smiled and cleaned the blood off Sam's face. When he finished he grabbed the pot, poured water and soup mix into it and stuck it in the fire. "Some more of the leek soup. I think I like leeks."

"My hands are cold," Sam said, pulling a hand out from under the cover of the sleeping bag. Dean took his hand, it was cold. "My feet are, too."

A first-aid lecture of their father's began playing in his head. _Bad sign, he's in bad shape, I wonder how much blood he's actually lost. Oh god, I don't think I want to know. _"Well, if your hand's cold, don't take it out from under the cover, Sammy."

"You're awfully cheerful, Dean," Sam said with a frown.

"It's a nice night, we're going to have leek soup, we're camping together…" _Oh god, Sammy, are you going to leave me out here? No. Not an option. _

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Dean?"

"What?"

Sam shrugged. "Nothing, I guess. When do you think dad will get here?"

"I'm guessing late tomorrow. He'd wait for us at the trailhead first, then he'd track us down."

"Will you try and meet him halfway?" Sam said, taking the cup of soup Dean handed him.

"Meet him? I told you I'm staying here, Sam."

"I meant after…"

"Shut up."

"Dean…"

"Shut the hell up, Sam. We are not having this conversation again. Shut up."

"Dean, you have to face…"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up," Dean yelled over his brother's patient tone.

"Do you feel better?" Sam asked with a smile.

"No." Dean stood and paced away for a minute. He grabbed wood off the stack at the edge of their campsite and walked back. "Sorry."

"It's okay, Dean. I…I'm…" Sam swallowed and set the cup down. "Not very hungry after all."

Dean sat back down beside his brother. "You should try and eat." He handed the cup back to Sam. "Just a little more? Either soup or mocha, your choice."

"You mean either soup or vaguely mocha-flavored gray slime?"

Dean grinned. "Yep." He sipped his soup, watching Sam, watching the blood trickling out of Sam's ears and nose. _First-aid isn't much help here, what the hell do I do? How do I stop this? I wish I knew what I could do to stop that bleeding. If we get out, I'll make sure I find something. When—I mean when—we get out._

"You're staring."

"What? Oh, sorry, thinking about that waitress, you know the one? Back at the hamburger place?" _Play along, Sammy, please._

"The blond?" Sam asked with a smile.

"Yeah, what was her name?"

"I think it was Annie."

"Yeah, right. Annie the waitress." Dean sighed. "If dad hadn't been in such a hurry…"

"I'm sure you would have had a chance." Sam put his cup down. "Dean?"

"What?"

"When you were asleep…I…Would you…?"

"Sammy? What?" Dean asked, concerned.

"I looked at my chest. Could you?"

"Sure." Dean picked up the flashlight as Sam pulled the sleeping bag down. Dean eased his brother's shirt up. _Shit. No. _The bandage was soaked again. At the edge of the bandage Sam's skin was purple, small bruises marking his chest and abdomen.

"I'm not going to make it until dad gets here, Dean."

"Yeah you are, you're just a little bruised." _He's right, he's dying, he'll never make it. _

"You're lying to me."

"No, I'm not." Dean said as he changed the bandage. _Oh god. _

"You are, I can hear it in your voice."

"You can't hear anything in my voice," Dean snapped, taping the bandage into place. _What do I do? I'm going to lose him. I can't. Sam, you can't leave._

"Yeah, I can." Sam smiled. "I can see it on your face, too. I'm dying."

"Would you stop? You're not dying, you're not even that bad, you just love drama." _Oh god, oh god. What do I do? _

"Right."

"Drama queen."

"Always." Sam closed his eyes and leaned against the rock. "Thanks."

"Sure," Dean answered automatically, not really sure what the thanks was for. He took their cups and rinsed them out. "I'm going to check the trail and then get a pot of coffee on. I'll be right back, okay? If you need me…call."

"Right," Sam said softly.

Dean walked down the hill. He stopped on the trail and shone the flashlight down the path to his right and left. The woods were quiet, the silence a break between the sounds of evening and animals that stalked the night. The stars glittered overhead, the Milky Way a bright slash across the sky. _What do I do? _Dean stared into the darkness, aware of tears on his face. _He's going to die. I can't stop it. Dying's not an option Sammy. Oh, god, please don't leave me. What do I do? _A sound in the bushes startled him. A raccoon peered out at him, the white of its mask bright in the light of the flashlight. He sighed. _What do I do? I stay, I sit with him. I make sure he knows he's not alone. _"Dad?" he said softly into the night. "If you could hurry..." Dean scrubbed the tears off his face and walked back up the hill.

"What took so long?" Sam asked.

"A raccoon tried to mug me," Dean laughed as he put the coffee pot in the fire. "I think he's working with the chipmunk."

"Maybe he's the flesh eater."

"Yeah, they probably work together." Dean sat down beside Sam.

"They're working to fill the niche, nature hates a vacuum," Sam said. "Have you noticed little evidence of large predators we've seen?'

"I did notice. That bear that tried to make you into dinner was the first I've seen." Dean pulled the coffee out of the fire and poured himself a cup. "You want some?"

"No."

"Okay…more for me, then." Dean leaned back against the rock. Sam shifted so he was in contact with him.

"Don't let me sleep," Sam said softly.

"What?"

"Don't let me sleep."

"Sammy…"

"Please, Dean," Sam's pleaded. "I…It'll give you a chance to tell some campfire stories."

"Sam…"

"Please, Dean."

"Okay, sure. I can sing camp songs, too."

"Yeah," Sam said. "Thanks."

"Have you heard the one about the Lost Dutchman Gold Mine? No?" Dean took a breath and started talking. He refilled his cup and kept talking. Sam commented frequently on the story at first, but he had gradually grown quiet. Dean made another pot and started another story. He was halfway through the story of Billy the Kidd and the Haunted Stable when Sam stopped him. "What is it?"

"I'm cold," Sam said, his voice weak.

"I know," Dean said, putting his arm over his brother's shoulders.

"I can't stay awake any longer, Dean, I'm sorry."

"Sammy?"

"Sorry, Dean. Tell dad will you?"

"You're going to be fine, Sam." Dean sighed.

"Right. Dean?"

"It's okay, Sam. I'll be here."

Sam dropped his head on Dean shoulder. "Resignation," he said under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing. Dean…I…"

"Yep. Me too, Sammy."

"Yeah."

"Let me finish the story…"

"Kay, Dean," Sam said drowsily.

Dean started talking again. His brother was completely motionless, but muttering answers to Dean's insistent questions. The first sliver of dawn was lighting the sky when Dean became aware of a sound, foreign to the quiet forest. The thump thump of something mechanical, something headed their way.

"Sammy! Sammy, it's a helicopter!" Dean shook his brother. Sam didn't respond. "Sammy?" He put a hand against his brother's neck, feeling for a pulse. "No, Sam, come on. Dad's here. Please, Sammy, don't die. Not now."

**Present**

"Are you finished yet?" Sam asked, his eyes closed, tears of pain running down his face.

"With the story? Not quite," Dean said. _Oh god, this is bad. _

"Dean…"

"Almost, Sam." Dean swabbed the wound one more time. _Can I even get that stuff out of it? _"Let me bandage this and we're done." He laid a gauze pad over the wound and taped it into place. "See? I told you it wasn't that bad." _Not bad at all, Sam. No, not at all. I'm not fooling you am I?_

"Right, Dean," Sam said with a sigh.

"I'll make that surprise now, how's that?" Dean pulled the pan out of the pack, dug down to the bottom of the bag and fished out several cans. "Ta da! Canned potatoes and Spam."

"Canned potatoes and Spam?" Sam asked, a smile lighting his face.

"Remember that time we camped on the Feather River? Dad was hunting that ghost but we got to go camping?"

"We had the spot right on the river," Sam continued the story. "We went swimming in the river and I found a piece of opal. And you made canned potatoes and Spam."

"You said it was the best thing you'd ever eaten." Dean grinned as he poured the potatoes into the pan.

"You always brought them when we went camping until…" Sam's smile faded a little. "Until that last time…I thought you'd forgotten."

"How could I forget? I wanted to take them that time too, but dad said it was impractical to carry cans that far."

"The only thing we're missing is…"

"Dean's amazing rice pudding with cherry pie filling?" Dean asked, putting Ziplock bag and a can down in front of Sam. "Didn't forget that, either."

Sam smiled. "Can you hand me dad's journal? Now that we've gotten a look at the hunters, maybe I can find something in the journal. Too bad I don't have the laptop."

"The internet wouldn't work here, Sammy."

"I know," Sam shrugged. "But it would be nice for research."

"A laptop that doesn't work?" Dean grinned as he handed his brother the journal. Sam's hands were shaking. "You could stare at the blank screen and hope something occurs to you?"

"Just like a crystal ball." Sam smiled.

"That makes sense." Dean stirred the potatoes, opened the Spam and started slicing it up. "When dinner's done, I'll put the pudding on."

"Uh huh," Sam muttered.

Dean looked up at his brother. Sam was frowning, flipping pages back and forth. "Sammy?"

"Hmm." Sam flipped back three pages and slowly thumbed through them again.

"Sam? Pretend I can't see what you're looking at." Dean layered the Spam into the pan.

"Well, that might explain…" Sam turned another page. "Huh, he was…"

"Sam?" Dean pulled the pan out of the fire and put the food on plates. "Sam?"

"If he's right…"

"SAMMY!"

Sam looked up. "What?"

"What'd you find?" He handed Sam a plate and sat down beside him.

"Well, I think dad might have seen them last time. He's done a lot of research…There's even a drawing." Sam turned the journal so Dean could see it. A drawing of a creature that looked like the ones they'd seen earlier was taped to the page. "He researched the poison in the dart, too. There're notes about that too…" Sam started flipping through the pages again.

"Sam? Can you let me in on this?"

"Dad thought…huh…I wonder if he's right."

"Sam?"

"Hiisi."

"What?"

"Hiisi. A forest demon. Huh, you know that sounds familiar." Sam looked through the journal again. "No, it's not here, why is that familiar?" He closed his eyes for a minute. Dean could practically see the wheels turning in his brother's head. "Oh."

"That doesn't sound good."

Sam opened his eyes. "Tolkien."

"Random?"

"No, Tolkien, he based a lot of his writing on folklore. Hiisi and the forest demons, he used them to base part of his books on."

"What part?"

"Of course, he altered the lore a bit."

"Sam? I'm going to kill you in a minute." Dean smiled. "What part?"

"He picked up several things…"

"Killing you in five…four…three…"

"Orcs."

"What?"

"He used Hiisi and the forest demons as the basis for the orcs."

"Orcs?"

"Yeah."

"You mean we're trapped in the forest with a bunch of freaking orcs?"

"Forest demons, Dean," Sam said reasonably.

"Sam?"

"Okay, Dean, orcs," Sam said, his voice bleak.

Dean met his brother's eyes. "We are so screwed."

_**To Be Continued.**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Welcome to the Jungle**

**Chapter Eight**

The sound of the river nearly covered the harsh call, the coughing bark—the hunters prowling on the other side of the river, on the other side of the stones blocking Sam and Dean from their view. The wind was blowing the smoke from the fire up the hill, away from the where the demons paced. Dean looked at Sam, his brother was pale, his hands shaking as he held their father's journal.

"This just keeps getting better and better, Sammy," Dean said, pushing the food around on his plate. "Orcs."

Sam smiled and set the journal down. "Orcs, Dean," he said, picking up his plate. "How much fun is that?"

"The most fun I can have without hacking my legs off," Dean tried for a grin, it felt wrong. "Sam…" He took a deep breath. _What do I say? "Sam, I don't know how to get us out of here. I don't know how to save you?" Yeah, good thinking, that'll make it better. I knew I should have kept hating camping. Damn._

Sam had been watching Dean's face. "There's more in dad's journal, Dean. Let me eat and I'll see what else I can find out."

"Don't forget your Slow Flow," Dean said, digging the pills out of the pack. "You have to…"

"Don't say it." Sam looked at him, Dean opened his mouth, Sam raised his eyebrows. "Dean?"

"Sammy?"

"Do not say one word about the pills."

"Fine." Dean handed the pills to Sam. "You…"

"Don't."

"But Sam…" Dean smiled, his brother grinned back. "I think the rice pudding's about ready," he said, pulling it off the fire.

"Can I have it now?"

"You have to finish dinner first."

"But Dean…" Sam whined, sounding like he was six.

"That doesn't work."

"But, Dean, pleeeasse" Sam said, drawing out the whine.

"Never worked before," Dean said, smiling. _It never worked. Right, until on the third or the fourth try when he got teary-eyed. I'd always give in. He knew it, I knew it… _"So, don't expect it to work now."

"Please?" Sam asked pathetically. "Please?"

"No, finish dinner."

"Kay, Dean." Sam took a bite and made a show of swallowing. "Is that enough?" Another bite. "Now?" Another bite. "Now? Please?"

Dean chuckled. "Okay." He scooped some pudding out onto Sam's plate and added a spoonful of pie filling.

"Thank you, Dean," Sam said with the same breathless voice and wide-eyed look he'd employed when he was a child. Dean punched him lightly on the arm.

"Cute, Sammy." Dean sighed, watching his brother eat. Sam's hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold the fork, his shoulder was seeping through again, the t-shirt discolored by discharge. Sam sensed Dean's look and met his eyes. "Sam…"

"I'm okay right now, Dean," Sam said softly.

_You are so far from okay…_ "I think…" A sharp bark interrupted him. Dean put his plate down and picked up the rifle. "Think this'll work on orcs?" Sam shrugged. "Stay here." Dean walked across the clearing towards the large stone by the river. He peered through the opening between the rocks. One of the creatures was standing in the middle of the river, staring towards the stone. It barked again, an answering bark sounded from downriver. _What's it doing? _It had a spear in one hand, after a staccato blast of barks from down the river, the creature pitched the spear up and over the stones, it arced over Dean's head into the clearing.

"I'm okay," Sam called before Dean could turn.

Dean shifted to get a better look at the creature. _The freaking orc. Great, where's Gandalf when I need him? _It was taller than Sam, broader, the skin dark, Dean was sure the color was a combination of paint, blood and the its natural coloring. It was wearing rough clothes made from of animal skin. When it turned briefly, Dean noticed a large hand still attached to the belt it was wearing. _It skinned a sasquatch for clothes? Nice. _It barked again, ending with a soft growl. _It knows we're here. But why is it just standing there? _A second creature appeared across the river. It was taller than the other, wearing rough moccasins. It stopped at the water's edge, pulled out a sling, fitted something into it, and lobbed it across the river. Dean heard it hit a tree with a _thunk. _

"Sam?"

"I'm okay, Dean."

_Time to see what works. _Dean lifted the rifle and looked through the scope. "Head shot?" he called.

"Usually works," Sam answered.

"Usually? That's helpful." Dean took a breath and squeezed the trigger. The shot cracked, the sound deafening in the quiet forest. Dean aimed at the larger one, hoping the moccasins and slightly different clothing indicated the leader. He saw it slam a hand over its eye, barking angry orders to the one standing in the river. _Okay, well, bullets in the eye make it mad. _Dean watched as the other one stepped out of the water and helped the leader walk away.

Dean walked back to the campfire. "Bullets don't seem to work very well." He put the rifle down beside his brother and went to pick up the spear and whatever the creature had thrown from its sling. He carried them back and handed the spear to Sam. "What do you think?"

"Obsidian," Sam said, looking at the sharp point. "Like the first trap."

"And the one I dug you out of, that's what cut you up so bad, I bet."

"Volcanic glass, it's sharp. I remember in anthropology class the professor said that it's sharper than metal and they were considering making surgical instruments out of…" Sam trailed off. "What?"

"What what?" Dean asked.

"You're smiling at me."

"You are such a geek."

"Thanks, I try," Sam said, smiling back. "What's in your hand?"

"Oh," Dean looked down at the small object, he handed it to Sam. "This came out of the sling."

Sam looked closely at the stone, turning it over in his hands. "Specially shaped to fly better…I wonder what else they have?"

"Did you just jinx us, Sam?" Dean put the coffee pot in the fire. "You should never say things like that. You know it's kind of strange, even after I shot one, they didn't try and come over here."

"Let me research a little…" Sam drifted off, Dean looked up in time to see his brother's eyes roll up in his head.

"SAM!" Dean caught him and eased him to the ground. "Sammy?" He felt for a pulse and finally found one, it was weak, faint. "But it's there. That's always a good sign." Sam was having a difficult time breathing, so Dean pulled the pack over and propped his brother up on it. He took the opportunity to check the wound on Sam's shoulder. _Oh my god. Sam…_ Dean changed the bandage and carefully tucked the extra sleeping bag around Sam. _I don't think I'll be sleeping much anyway. _ Sam groaned. "Sam?"

"Dean?" Sam groaned.

"Nope, he left," Dean said with a sigh of relief.

"He does that," Sam said softly, opening his eyes.

"Yeah, he does. No, Sam, stay down," Dean said, putting a hand on his brother's chest as Sam tried to sit up. "You need to rest."

"I need to look at dad's journal," Sam protested.

"Not right now, Sam." Dean pulled the coffee pot out of the fire and poured them both a cup. He added a generous spoonful of hot chocolate to Sam's and then handed it to him. Sam reached for the cup, his hand shaking. Dean pressed the mug into his brother's hand and kept his hand over Sam's as Sam took a sip.

"Thanks," Sam said, letting Dean set the cup on the ground.

"You want to tell me why we didn't mention we were as bad as we are?"

"I'm sure that made perfect sense to you, Dean."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me how bad you were, Sam?" _Be fair, you knew it was bad, you've been madly denying how bad it was for hours. He's…He's in bad shape. The bleeding has slowed, but it hasn't stopped, the wounds are looking infected and…_

"There's nothing we can do. I didn't want you to…"

"What?" Dean snapped. Sam looked at him with the steady look Dean knew all to well—the "what do you think, Dean" look. "Oh. Well, I reserve the right to."

"Dean, no one's coming this time, you have to face…"

"If you tell me to leave, Sam, so help me I'll…I'll…" Dean stopped trying to think of something dire to threaten his brother with.

"You'll what?" Sam asked with a ghost of a smile on his face.

"I'll make you watch 'Spinal Tap' and 'The Return of Spinal Tap' with out a break. I'll tie you to a chair and tape your eyes open."

"I'm scared now."

"You should be."

"I am, Dean, really, I am," Sam said, smiling. The smile slowly faded. "No one is coming."

"That's what we thought last time, too, Sammy."

"We knew dad would look for us, we just didn't think he would get to us in time."

"I won't leave. We aren't talking about this again."

"Dean…"

"No, Sam. No. I won't leave you, I didn't leave you last time, why the hell would you think I would this time?"

"You need to get out, let Drew know what's going on, see if you can figure a way to stop these things."

"I am not leaving."

"Dean, you have to…the hunt."

"The hunt doesn't matter now, Sam. We need to get you out, then finish the hunt."

"That's not the way it works, Dean, you know that. What would dad say?"

"Same damn thing thing he said last time, Sam," Dean said, the angry words flowing out of him before he could stop them.

"What did he say?" Sam asked, looking at him.

"I needed to go with him and hunt whatever had taken the hikers, whatever had hurt you."

"He was right, Dean."

"Sam…If you…I'll say the same thing to you that I did to him."

"What was that?"

"Fuck the hunt."

**Past**

The thump of the helicopter was getting steadily louder. Dean grabbed a handful of pine needles and tossed them on the fire. They burned bright, then disappeared. "I need more, Sam, I'll be right back." He scooped up an armful and threw them on the flames, hoping he didn't douse the fire at the same time. The needles crackled and started smoking, smoke rising in a column through the trees. "Dad's here, Sammy." _Or someone is, they should see the smoke and come to investigate. _The chopper circled overhead, then moved off. _No, no, don't go._ The sound moved away, then stopped. _What do I do? Sam, hang on. _

"DEAN!" His father's shout drifted up from the direction of the river.

"DAD! HERE!" Dean shouted back. "I'll be right back. Hang on, Sam, I'm going to get dad." Dean ran down the hill, along the game trail. As he rounded a corner in the path, he ran into his father. John pulled Dean against him in a quick hug.

"Are you okay, son?" John asked, running his eyes over Dean.

"I...It's Sammy, dad. He's in bad shape."

"KEN!" John bellowed. "I brought help. What happened?" John asked as they jogged back to Sam.

"Something took him. I found him. He'd been hit with some kind of dart. I have it. Dad, he's bleeding, it won't stop." Dean led the way to where Sam lay, he dropped down beside his brother and put his hand on Sam's forehead. "Dad's here, Sammy."

"My god, Dean…" John whispered. Dean turned to look at his father, John's face was paper white. "How long has he been bleeding like that?"

"It's been getting worse since I found him. At first it was just the cuts, then his nose and now…" Dean trailed off, picturing the bruising on his brother's chest. _Internal bleeding. _

"How long has he been unconscious?" John snapped out, in his voice drill sergeant.

"Not long, sir," Dean answered automatically.

Two men ran up the hill carrying a stretcher. John pulled Dean away from his brother. "Let them handle this. Now, what happened?"

"We were attacked…" _When was that? How many days ago? _"Something threw a spear at us. Large footprints, looked human, I thought it might be a sasquatch. Next morning we were on the trail and Sam disappeared."

"Disappeared? How?"

"I'm not sure. He said he felt the dart, but I'm still not sure if that's why he fell. Maybe something else…I followed. I found him about five hours later."

"Five hours?" John exploded.

Dean looked down. "I'm sorry, sir, I wasn't paying attention and fell. I found him, hanging from a tree. There was a bear, it triggered some kind of spring-loaded trap. Bear ran, I cut Sam down, thought we should put some distance between us and whoever set the trap. We made it this far. Sorry, sir."

"Did you see anything?"

"No, sir. Just the trap and the bear."

"And the night you were attacked?"

"Something big was moving around, it sounded like it was on two legs. In the morning, there were footprints." Dean glanced back at Sam, the two men were loading his brother onto the stretcher.

"I guess that's a start," John said, walking towards Sam. "How is he, Ken?"

"John…"

"Tell me."

"Bad. Really bad," Ken answered.

"Get him back. Send someone for us."

"Dad? What do you mean send someone for us? Isn't there room?" Dean asked, walking up beside his father.

"We need to finish the hunt, Dean."

"We need to go with Sam, dad."

"Let the doctors do their job, we'll be back before…"

"I promised I would stay with him," Dean broke in. His father stopped and looked at him. "I told him I wouldn't leave!"

"Leave him here, I understand. But we need to get this thing and Sam is in good hands."

"I can't leave him, dad. I told him…" Anger simmering in Dean's chest. _Why won't he listen to me? Why?_

"We can't do anything for Sam right now, Dean, but we can hunt this thing," John said.

"I need to stay with Sam," Dean said desperately, convinced that as long as they were together, Sam would make it. "Please, dad. I promised." _And Winchesters never break a promise, dad, you're the one who taught me that. _

"Sam'll be fine, Dean, we need to hunt this thing."

"No." _Dad, I said no, I need to stay with Sam. Just let me!_

"We're out here to do a job. Sam would understand."

"No, he wouldn't. I told him I would stay with him," Dean said, trying to keep his voice calm, but hearing the rage coloring his tone. _NO, DAD! NO!_

"The hunt…"

"Fuck the hunt."

"What?" John said, his voice dropping dangerously. "What did you just say to me?"

"John," Ken said, stepping between them. "I need to ask your son a couple of questions." He turned to Dean. "How long…"

"I asked him that," John snapped at the man.

"Let me do my job," Ken said. "How long were you unconscious?"

"What?" Dean looked at Ken.

"What?" John said.

"I heard you talking, you said it took five hours to get to your brother because you fell. How long were you out?" Ken asked, lifting Dean's face to look in his eyes. "Any dizziness? Nausea?"

"Not that I noticed," Dean answered. "I wasn't thinking about…"

"I think we should transport you, too. That's quite a bump you've got. Did you take anything?"

"About eight gallons of coffee."

"And you're not nauseous? I'm impressed," Ken said with a little laugh. "We need to get you looked at, Dean."

"Ken," his father said.

"Hey, Tim?" Ken said to the other man. "We're taking this one in, too." Ken grabbed John's arm and dragged him away. Dean watched them go, amused his father let himself be pulled away. John's face was set in a look of quiet fury, as the other man spoke, Dean could see the anger drain out of his father's face. Finally, John cast a worried glance Dean's way, said something quietly to Ken and looked back at Dean, panic on his face. _Oh, that's not good. _

"We're going," John said, coming back up the hill and grabbing Dean's pack. "Move out."

"Sir?"

"You heard me, move out."

"But…"

"Dean? Go," his father said gruffly.

"Yes, sir," Dean said and followed Sam's stretcher down the trail. Dean watched as they put Sam into the chopper, climbed in and put his hand on his brother's arm. "We're on our way, Sam, you're going to be okay." Dean looked up at Ken and his father. _Oh god. _John climbed in beside him and they were in the air. Dean's heart slamming against his rib cage as the helicopter rose into the sky. _Oh, yeah, best part of the rescue. I get to fly. Love that. Favorite thing. Best thing. I sound a little nervous. _Dean closed his eyes, hoping to slow the growing nausea and rising panic.

"Dean?" Someone was shaking him. "Dean?"

"Yeah, dad?" he answered, not quite awake.

"Can you get out?"

"Huh?" The sound of activity around him, voices in controlled, urgent tones flowed over him.

"Give me a hand," John said. Dean felt himself pulled to his feet. He opened his eyes, his father and Ken were carrying him towards a stretcher.

"I can walk, dad," Dean protested as they eased him down onto the stretcher.

"We have to roll you in," Ken said, patting his arm. "It's the rules, you know."

"Oh, okay," Dean said, letting his eyes close. "How's Sam?"

"We're taking him in now, we'll get you both taken care of, Dean," Ken said gently. "Just enjoy the ride."

The stretcher started moving and Dean could feel a cool blast of air as he was maneuvered across the helipad, then thump as they pushed the stretcher into the building. _Sam, it's going to be okay. _He let himself drift off a little as he was moved through the hospital, long days and nights of worry and very little sleep suddenly catching up with him. The stretcher came to a stop, Dean was aware of movement around him, hushed conversation from somewhere else in the room, then gentle, cool hands on his head. He opened his eyes.

"I'm Peter, I'm a PA, how are you feeling?" The man was poking at Dean's head, turning it a little to get a better look. "When did this happen?"

"Um, a day, no, two days ago, I think. I tripped and hit my head on a tree root," Dean said. "How's my brother?"

"The doctor's with him right now."

"Where is he?" Dean asked, trying to sit up.

"Next bed over, Dean, lay down and let me finish, okay?" Peter said, putting a hand on Dean's chest and pushing him back onto the bed. "Just relax for a minute." He poked at Dean's head a moment longer, someone came in, spoke with Peter and they both started cleaning the cut on Dean's head. Dean drifted off again.

"How is Dean?" his father's voice pulled him back to full awareness.

"Exhaustion, mild concussion, but he'll be fine," Ken answered.

"When can he get back…"

"John, we talked about this. He needs to stay here."

"I meant once he's rested a little."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it." Ken paused. "He needs to stay here so he can say goodbye to his brother."

**Present**

The wind shifted slightly, blowing smoke into Sam's face. Tears started running down his face. Sam knew they had nothing to do with the smoke and everything to do with the shattered look on his brother's face. He put a hand on Dean's arm. "I didn't die," he said softly. _I made it that time, just not so sure about this time. Do I tell him? Would he listen? No. Dean won't…_

"I know," Dean said, his voice rough, his eyes haunted by the past.

Sam tried to ease himself into a more comfortable position. "I need to do a little more research, Dean." _I have to find you a way out of here, for after I'm gone._

"You need to rest first," Dean said frowning with HIS "I know best" frown.

"I've been resting," Sam said.

"Yeah, but not enough." Dean put a hand on Sam's forehead. "Maybe you should take some Tylenol." Before Sam could answer Dean dug the first-aid kit out of the pack and shook two pills into Sam's hand. "Take them."

"Fine. Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean grinned at him.

"Dean…"

"Sshh." Dean turned his head. "Stay here." Dean picked up the rifle and slipped away into the fruit trees behind them. Sam heard his brother's passage at first, the snap of a branch, then silence. Sam sat listening when he finally heard what had spurred Dean into action, the slightest sound of something rubbing against wood, the softest rasp, barely audible over the sound of the river. _What's going on? _Another noise, a sharp yelp of profanity split the air. _Dean!_

Sam sat up, pushing the sleeping bags off and fished around in the pack, cold metal met his seeking fingers, he pulled out Dean's .45. He pushed himself up and stood with his hand on the tree until a wave of dizziness passed. _I'm not going to be much help. _He listened again, getting a bearing on the noise, walked to the edge of the clearing and looked into the trees. There were a few more rows of fruit trees and then a thicket of aspen. The noise was coming from the group of trees beyond the orchard. Sam walked cautiously through the fruit trees, alert for any sound around him, secretly pleased that he was managing the same silent passage as Dean.

He slid behind the nest tree and peered into the thicket. Something large was moving. Sam tried to get a better look, easing closer to the stand of aspen. He got a glimpse of one of the forest demons as it reached for a tool of some kind. _What's it doing? Where's Dean? _There was no sign of his brother, Sam watched for a moment longer, trying to edge a little closer to get a better look at what it was building. _It looks almost like a trebuchet. _As he stepped beyond the last row of fruit trees, something hit him hard, knocking him down. Fighting an explosion of pain he tried to push himself up. Something hard connected with his head. Stars sparkled in front of his eyes.

When the stars cleared, he was standing in front of one of the demons. It had a smile on its face as it looked at him. A rough hand tore away his shirt. Sam tried to suppress a groan as it ran a finger along the slash in his side. It smiled and said something to the other one. It probed at the wound in his shoulder, violently stabbing with its finger. Sam cried out. It laughed, the other one following suit. _Dean is going to be pissed. _The creature said something, the other one walked away, coming back a few minutes later with an animal skin bloated with liquid.

It held the skin out to him. Sam shook his head. _No way. _It waved the skin in front of his face. Sam shook his head. It looked at the other one, growling its annoyance. Sam's arms were yanked behind his back and the creature shoved its fingers into Sam's jaw, forcing his mouth open. It poured a stream of vile liquid into his mouth. Sam spat it out. The creature in front of him nodded at the one holding Sam and poured out more. Sam's nose was covered. He swallowed the black liquid, gagging at the putrid scent and rotten flavor. He was dropped to the ground, a sharp kick discouraging him from movement. _Shit. _

Sam tried to slither away, slowly easing himself away from the creatures. A growl stopped him, he froze, his hand extended along the ground in front of him. _Dean was right, we are so screwed. _He watched as the two creatures went back to work, grunting back and forth. _I think it is a trebuchet. Dean will love that. Oh, yeah. "Orcs with a freaking trebuchet, Sammy? Getting better every second." _Sam smiled as his brother's voice played in his head. Dizziness washed over him. _I wonder what that stuff was? _He was feeling lightheaded.

A cool hand closed over his wrist. Before he could react, he was dragged across the ground. He saw the aspens rush past, then the gnarled trunk of a fruit tree. Dean pulled him to his feet and half-carried him as they ran through the trees. Sam heard the thump of something hitting the trees they were running through. _Don't look back, just keep going. _Dean dropped him back by their fire and began digging frantically through the first-aid kit. He pulled out a brown bottle and opened it.

"Drink." Dean frowned when Sam hesitated. "Ipecac, Sam, you have to get that shit out of you," Dean said, his voice completely panicked. Dean pressed the bottle against Sam's lips. Sam took a sip. Dean waited for the expected reaction. "More, Sammy, come on," Dean said, his eyes wild. _Complete panic. That's a stage I forgot. That only comes when…_"Anything?" When Sam shook his head, Dean gave him another dose. Sam gulped it down. Dean had the bottle up again when Sam gagged. "Good boy," Dean said as Sam started retching. _Gee, thanks, Dean. _He could feel Dean's hand supporting him as his stomach emptied itself.

When he finished Dean pulled him away from the mess and gently wiped his face with a wet paper towel. "Feeling better?"

"Just great, Dean, thanks." Sam said, his eyes closed.

"Reminds me of the time you decided to taste everything in the cupboard when you were seven."

"Yeah."

"Here, take a sip, it's only water." Dean held the bottle as Sam drank. Sam let the cool liquid slide down his raw throat.

"Looks like I wasted dinner," Sam said.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Nothing," Dean said.

Sam shifted, suddenly aware he was propped up against his brother. Dean had one arm around his shoulders, his hand tightly clasping Sam's upper arm. Sam opened his eyes and met his brother's panicked ones. "Dean?"

"You're fine, Sam."

_Oh, yeah, I know that look, Dean. _"What?" Sam looked around, the paper towel was lying on the ground beside him, covered in blood and black ooze. He looked back up at Dean. "So, you figured it out?"

"Figured what out, Sam?" Dean said, his voice exasperated. Sam heard the panic, the fear under his brother's teasing tone.

"I'm dying."

_**To Be Continued**_


	9. Chapter 9

**Welcome to the Jungle**

**Chapter Nine**

The forest was alive with sound. Birds chirped happily, a squirrel was chattering from a rock on the other side of the clearing, the snap of a twig preceded a deer walking through, close to the river. A thump thump also rang through the forest, the demons were building something on the other side of the trees. Dean could hear the sound of stone against wood as the creatures worked. None of that really mattered at that moment. Dean was looking down at his brother.

"You are not dying, Sammy," he said, letting annoyance creep into his voice. _That'll fool him. I wouldn't be annoyed if it was serious._

"Dean?" Sam raised his eyebrows.

"You're not."

"Dean?"

"Shut up, Sam. Can you get up? Only as far as the fire?"

"Didn't I just dump dinner all over back there?" Sam asked as Dean helped him up.

"I pushed you away from the camp." Dean grinned as he pulled Sam's arm over his shoulders. "I'll bury the mess as soon as you're settled." He half-carried his brother over to the fire and set him down on the sleeping bag. "I'll get you a shirt and fix that shoulder too, okay?" Dean dug through the pack looking for a clean shirt. He pulled one out, grabbed the first-aid kit and turned back towards Sam. His brother was staring at him. "What?" Dean asked.

"What happened to you?" Sam asked, reaching out to brush Dean's forehead with a shaking hand.

"Nothing." Dean looked at the wound in Sam's shoulder. _Oh god, Sammy. _

"I heard you. It's why I…I'm sorry I let them grab me, Dean." Sam poked at Dean's head. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"And the blood?"

"One of them pitched a rock at me, that's all. I ducked, but not fast enough." Dean smiled. "Damn rock was sharp."

"Dean…"

"I'm okay, Sam. Heads bleed a lot, you know that. How do you feel?"

"I'm okay."

"A minute ago you said you were dying."

"Look at that thing in my shoulder and tell me I'm not."

"You're not, Sammy." _Oh my god, oh my god._

"You're lying to me Dean. I appreciate it, but you're lying." Sam shifted so he could get a look at the wound, oozing black liquid with a strange fungus-like thing growing over it. "It tingled when they gave me that liquid, like it was feeding on it. What is it?"

"I don't know." Dean pulled out his knife and gently probed at the thing. Sam groaned, his face paling, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Shit. What's it doing? Why does it hurt like that?" Sam gasped. Dean poked at it with the knife again, he thought he saw something move in Sam's flesh. Sam groaned again, his muscles tensing. Dean stopped.

"No, get a good look, Dean," Sam said through clenched teeth. Dean tried to lift it away from the wound. He could see tendrils that looked like roots extending into the wound. One of the roots was wriggling like a worm burrowing into the ground. Dean swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. "Haven't seen you look that green in awhile," Sam said, amusement in his voice.

"When did it start growing like this, Sam? It was just black and oozy last time I looked." _Just black and oozy. Yeah, cause that wasn't bad enough. _

"After they gave me that drink is when it started aching and tickling, like something was crawling on me. They poked at it, talked about it and then gave me that drink." Sam reached up to touch it, Dean slapped his hand away.

"Hold still." Dean lifted up the other side, he could see the roots working their way into Sam's flesh as he watched. "Let me try something." Dean pulled out a small bag of rock salt and put some on the growth.

"Nothing's happening."

"I thought since it's demonic in origin…" Dean broke off and looked at it. _I knew it wouldn't work…It didn't then…_

"Get it off me."

"Sam…" Dean sat back on his heels. "I don't know what kind of damage that would do."

"Probably less than leaving it there," Sam said, meeting his eyes.

"Sam…" Dean looked back at the growth, one of the tendrils was inching along Sam's shoulder, heading for his neck. _What happens if that thing gets in a blood vessel? _Dean grabbed it and cut it off. Sam groaned. "Sorry." Another tendril broke free from the mass and started moving. Dean looked at his brother. "Sam…" _Oh god, how much damage will I do? I don't have any choice, do I?_

"You don't have a choice, Dean, you have to do this."

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Nothing." Dean looked at him. "I'm not sure…It looks like the top is just growing, like a mushroom." _Maybe it won't hurt too much._

"When you poke at it, the roots go deeper. You have to get it off, Dean. No matter what."

"Sam…" Dean dug through the pack and pulled out the flask. He handed it to Sam. "I don't know if that will help much." Sam shrugged and took a drink. "A little more, Sammy." Dean looked at his knife.

"Use the spear," Sam said, taking another drink.

"What?"

"The obsidian is sharper than your knife." Sam looked at him. "Really, Dean, look at it." Dean picked up the spear and ran his thumb gently along the edge. _He's right, it's sharp. _He cut the rawhide holding the spearhead to the spear and rinsed it off with alcohol. Dean swallowed and looked at Sam. "Do I get a bullet to bite on?" Sam asked, taking another swig from the flask. "That's how it always was in the movies."

"Those are actual bullets, not cartridges." Dean smiled at Sam. _Oh god. _

"Right." Sam smiled back. "I should have something, make it just like 'She Wore A Yellow Ribbon'. Accept he was in the back of a wagon, and it was an arrow…"

"Not orc fungus?" Dean handed Sam a stick. "If it will make you happy, bite on that. At least it will keep you from talking."

"Thanks, Dean," Sam shoved him. "Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean smiled. Another tendril broke free and began creeping across Sam, wriggling like a living creature. "Sam?"

"Ready." Sam put the stick in his mouth and grinned at Dean around it. He nodded.

Dean lifted and edge of the growth, trying to get an idea of the best way to proceed. He ran his finger around it. "I'm going to try and take it off in one piece. Here we go." He lifted the edge and sliced. Sam tensed, Dean heard his brother's teeth grinding against the stick. Sam was groaning, the grunts rapidly gaining volume until it was close to a scream. Dean made a last cut and the large top of the growth came off. Black ooze ran across Dean's hands, burning the skin. He tossed the thing down and turned back to Sam's shoulder. He started in on the tendrils still writhing in the wound. "Sorry." He had three out and was working on the last two when Sam relaxed. Dean put a hand on Sam's throat feeling for a pulse. "Good boy, Sammy, you passed out." Dean finished, hoping he got all of it out of his brother.

After rinsing the back ooze and blood of his hands, he washed wound out and laid a bandage over it. Dean gently wiped the sweat off his brother's face. He pulled the clean t-shirt over Sam's head and managed to get Sam's arms through it, and had him settled in the sleeping bag before Sam groaned. Dean reached for the coffee pot and realized his hands were shaking. He looked down, a little blood was left on his fingernails, he looked at it for a minute as he watched his hands tremble. _Oh god. _He swallowed. _Oh god. _"I'll be right back, Sammy." He got up and walked quickly away from the fire, down towards the river. _Oh god. _He slipped through the boulders and knelt down beside the water, splashing his face and taking a drink of the cold water. _Oh god, Sammy. _

Dean heard a sound on the other side of the running water. He glanced up as an orc walked between the trees, heading towards the water. Dean carefully backed up and slid between the stones. _What was it doing? _He could hear it splashing through the water, looking through the break in the stones he could see it waiting just on the other side of the boulders. _Why don't they come in here? _

"Dean?"

"Right here, Sammy." Dean walked back across the clearing towards his brother. "Checking on the orcs." _That gets better every time I say it. Orcs. Freaking orcs. _ He sank down beside his brother and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Did you get it all?"

"Yes." _God, I hope so Sam. _"Do you want some coffee?"

"No." Sam looked at him. "Dean…"

"Time for your pills. You probably barfed them all up."

"Thanks. Dean…"

"Shut up, Sam. We aren't starting this again." Dean handed his brother a cup of coffee with hot chocolate in it. "Maybe you can go through dad's journal in a bit."

"Dean…"

"You're better at the research thing. You always come up with the answer, Sammy."

"Dean…"

"I mean why don't they come here? What were they building?"

"A trebuchet. Dean…"

"A trebuchet? Orcs with a freaking trebuchet? It just keeps getting better and better."

"Dean…"

"Why do they need a trebuchet?'

"Dean, would you listen to me?"

"Are you going to talk about the orcs? The trebuchet? About how we're getting out of here?" Dean looked at his brother. "Yeah. No."

"Dean, it's hopeless."

"It's not hopeless, Sam. Not an option." Dean slammed his coffee cup down.

"Dean…"

"You're wrong. They were wrong last time and you're wrong this time."

"What are you talking about?"

"They said it was hopeless. They said…" Dean swallowed and looked away.

"Dean?" Sam put his hand on Dean's arm. "What?"

"They said…Oh god, Sammy…"

**Past**

The emergency room was full of activity. People were rushing up and down the hallways, in and out of the rooms. Dean held his breath trying to hear the conversation on the other side of the curtain.

"That's not what I mean, you know it," Ken said. "He needs to be here so he can say goodbye to his brother."

Dean heard his father's sharp intake of breath. "Are you sure?" John nearly whispered. "I thought once he was here…" Dean could hear the desperation in his father's voice.

"There's nothing I can do, John. We're giving him antibiotics for the infection, coagulants and blood, but…

"But?" John snapped. "But what?"

"It won't be enough."

"Ken…"

"John," the man dropped his voice, Dean strained to listen. "I know this is supernatural, but I have no idea where to begin. There are vegetable components to the poison, but there's something else. And you know as well as I do…Nothing worked, John. I tried."

"Rock salt? Holy water?" John asked, his voice low.

"Everything I could think of." Ken paused. "All I can do is try and make him as comfortable as possible. Give you and Dean time to say goodbye. I'm sorry, John. I wish I could do more."

Dean pushed himself up and opened the curtain. His father and Ken were standing by the window. "Dad? Where's Sam?" John jumped. Dean smiled a little. He didn't manage to startle his father very often.

"We took him up to a room," Ken said, walking over to Dean.

"Can I see him?" Dean swung his legs off the bed and stood. The room spun around him. _Too much coffee, too little food and way too little sleep. _He took a deep breath and steadied himself. His father was frowning at him. "Dad?"

"I'll take you up there, Dean." John looked at Ken. "Is he okay?"

The man came over and checked Dean's head and looked in his eyes. "Yeah, as long as he takes it easy."

"I thought you were a medic," Dean said, looking from Ken to his father.

"Occasionally." Ken chuckled. "Usually only when John's around." He gave John an affectionate slap on the back. "I'll be by to check on you in a couple of hours." He smiled at Dean and patted him on the back before leaving.

"Come on," John snapped. He walked out of the room. Dean trailed behind his father, barely glancing at the people moving through the corridors. _Sammy? Dying is not an option. You hear me? Oh god, Sam, I'm sorry. _They stopped in front of the elevator, Dean stole a glance at his father. John looked exhausted, deep lines of stress pulled his mouth down. He sensed Dean's look and smiled, tears glittering at the edges of his eyes. Dean stepped into the car beside his father, trying to stop the growing panic. He took a deep breath and managed to get a little grip on himself. He thought he would be okay, until the doors opened and he realized that they were in ICU.

John stepped out and looked at Dean. "It's only until Sam's a little better, son."

"I heard you and Ken, dad," Dean said, grabbing John's arm. "He said…"

"Dean…" John looked away. "Sam's dying. There's nothing they can do."

"We can do something, dad. I don't care if Ken tried everything in the book. There has to be something we can do. Find a priest, a witch…something." _Please, dad, there has to be something. _

"Dean…" His father stared at the wall, then turned back. "You're right. We'll figure something out. We know things that Ken doesn't. Let's check on Sam, and you can sit with him while I start making calls." John put his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"I can help call, dad, or research."

"Dean, no. Ken said you needed to rest. And you should, just for an hour or two," John said when Dean opened his mouth to protest. "Then you can help. We'll find something."

"We will, dad," Dean said gently. "Losing Sam isn't an option."

"No."

The walked together down the hallway to Sam's room. _Oh god, Sammy. _He walked into the room and stopped by the bed. His father stood beside him. Dean looked over, his father had tears running down his cheeks. Dean turned and pulled his father against him, letting his own tears fall. "We'll figure it out," he whispered.

"Yeah," John said, pulling away. He wiped the tears off his face. "I'll go make some calls. I'll be back in an hour. If there's any change come and get me. I'll be downstairs."

"I will." Dean sank down in the chair by the bed as his father left the room. He put his hand on Sam's arm. "Hey, Sammy. I told you we'd get out of there." He looked at the machines behind Sam, at the IV snaking down, blood-red, into his brother's arm. "It's not a bad place, there's even a hot nurse down the hall."

Dean patted Sam's arm. "You missed the best part. We got to ride in a helicopter." Tears started running down Dean's face. "I remember when you were six and we went to that museum and you got to sit in the helicopter. You were so excited. I think you decided you wanted to be a pilot. For days after, you'd turn every chair into a pilot's chair. Dad nearly went insane with the sound effects. And you missed the ride, Sammy." He cleared his throat. "It probably won't be exciting as it was then, but when you're better, we'll take another ride, how's that?" Dean sighed, remembering the day years before and his over-excited brother dashing between exhibits.

"It was a few days after that—didn't we go camping? At the place in Oregon? There was a huge rock and we played king of the hill…" Dean kept talking. Memory after memory he shared with his silent brother. Nurses came and went, their looks bleak, even as they smiled at him. After the first time, Dean looked away as they checked on Sam. As long as he didn't see the damage, he could convince himself that Sam would be okay.

"I wonder where dad is," Dean said, glancing at the clock. "It's been a couple of hours. Maybe he's found something. I'll be right back. I think I'll get a cup of coffee too." He squeezed Sam's arm gently. "Ten minutes, Sammy, no more." Dean walked out of the room and spotted his father and Ken standing by the elevators. He walked quietly up to the two men.

"I've called everyone I can think of, no one has any ideas," John said to Ken as Dean approached.

"John, it's hopeless. I'm sorry, but there's nothing…"

"I know. I need to tell Dean we looked, though."

"I understand."

"Dad?" Dean looked at his father. "What did you find?"

"Nothing, yet, Dean. Bobby's checking on something for me, I need to call him back in a little bit."

"Okay," Dean said, pretending he hadn't heard them talking. "I need a cup of coffee. Want to walk down with me?"

"I'll sit with your brother till you get back, then I'll make a few more calls."

"Sure." Dean punched the elevator button and waited. His father and Ken walked towards Sam's room. The doors opened and he stepped in, the word "hopeless" bouncing around inside his skull. He got his coffee and headed back towards Sam's room, distracted, trying to hold on to hope. _Sammy, hang on, I'll figure it out, even if dad doesn't, just give me a little more time, okay? _Dean paused by the door to his brother's room. John was talking quietly to Sam. Brief hope flared up, until Dean saw that Sam was still unconscious.

"Dad?" Dean walked up beside his father. "I don't care what they say, Sammy's going to make it."

"Dean, Ken's doing his best, but you might have to accept…"

"No, dad, Sam dying is not an option. You're the one who told me that, after…" Dean swallowed. "We didn't lose him then, we won't now."

"There's nothing they can do."

"I don't care, dad." Dean turned away from his father and walked to the window. "Sammy's not dying." He stayed with his back to John until he heard his father sigh and quietly leave the room. Dean turned back to the bed. "They want me to say goodbye, Sam. I won't. You don't get to leave. Understand?" He sat down beside the bed. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I thought camping would be fun. A couple of days away from dad…I let you down, little brother. I'm sorry." _I hate camping. _

A nurse came, checked on Sam and left. Ken wandered in and spoke briefly with Dean. Another nurse came through. Dean leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. _I need a little more sleep. _He put his hand over Sam's and let himself drift off. Something woke him from a dream of a warm sunlit beach. _What was that? _A slight pressure on his hand pulled him to full awareness. He opened his eyes and sat up. Sam's hand was curling around his. "Sammy?" Dean said, his heart hammering in his chest. Sam's eyelids fluttered. "Sam?" Dean tightened his grip on his brother's hand.

"Dean?" Sam opened his eyes.

"Yeah." Dean sat on the edge of the bed. "Hey."

"Hey," Sam said, his voice raspy. "Where am I?"

"Hospital, dad found us." Dean smiled, ignoring the tears pooling in his eyes. "We've been here for about fourteen hours."

"We?" Sam frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just meant…" He scrubbed a tear off his face. "I've been sitting here…that's all."

"Am I okay?"

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean said firmly, squeezing Sam's hand. "Dad's down the hall, do you want me to go…?"

"Yeah." Sam closed his eyes. "Don't be gone long."

"Nope." Dean patted Sam's chest and walked out of the room. He sprinted down the hall, his father was sitting in the small lobby area, Ken was sitting with him. "Sam's awake," he said without preamble.

"What?" Ken looked up.

"He's awake," Dean said breathlessly. "And talking." Ken looked at John and jogged down the hall. Dean and his father followed the doctor. Ken was with Sam when they entered. He looked up, smiled and walked towards them.

"We need to run a few tests," Ken said gently.

"But?" John asked, his eyes full of tears. Dean put his arm around his father.

"I think…I think he's going to be okay, I don't understand it."

"Are you sure?" Dean asked quietly.

"Not yet, that's what the tests are for, but he shouldn't have ever woken up. He's awake. I take that as a good sign."

Dean gave his father a one-armed hug, walked back in and sat on Sam's bed. "Doc says you're going to be okay, Sammy."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," John said, walking up beside the bed. He smiled at Dean, tears on his face. Dean felt answering tears on his own.

"Yep, Sammy. I told you." Dean grinned at his brother.

"Yeah, Dean, you did." Sam smiled and reached for his hand, Dean took it. "I'll listen next time."

**Present**

A loud _thunk _from the forest pulled Dean back to the present. Sam's shoulder was warm against his. He looked over at his brother. "Maybe you should listen this time, too, Sammy."

"Yeah." Sam shifted. "Did Ken ever tell you what happened?"

"No. He didn't know. He told me—us—he was sure you were a good as dead, then you recovered. He never knew what made the difference." Dean sighed. "It would be nice to know." Another _thunk _sounded through the forest. Dean stood and looked through the trees. "I'm going to see if I can find out what's going on, okay?"

"Dean? Be careful."

"Stay put this time, Sammy, even if you hear me screaming."

"Right. Scream all you want, I'm not getting up."

"Good." Dean picked up the rifle and edged into the trees. _Don't know why I grabbed the Henry. It just makes them mad. _ He moved silently through the fruit trees, getting closer to where the demons were working. Dean ground his teeth together, shoving away the memory of Sam standing in front of the creatures. _Don't get distracted. _He worked his way through the grove of trees to the hill above them, so he could look down into the thicket. He saw one of them moving, just a shadow in the trees. He slipped closer. Something flew over his head and slammed into the hillside with a loud _thunk. _Dean dove to the side as the boulder tumbled down the hill. _Great, freaking orcs with a freaking working trebuchet. What's next?_ Another stone hit the hill, about fifty feet from where Dean stood. _They don't know I'm here, they're just practicing. _He turned and headed back towards their camp.

"What are you doing?" Dean said, walking up behind his brother.

Sam jumped. "Researching."

"Good." Dean dropped down beside Sam and reached for the coffee pot. He dumped the grounds out. "Do you want a little more to eat?" he asked as he put the pot back in the fire.

"No," Sam said. "Can I have some coffee? I'm getting cold."

"Sure. Do you want me to set up the tent?" _Maybe that's not a good idea. I'd rather keep him by the fire with me. _

"It'd rather stay out here by the fire."

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Nothing." Dean smiled and pulled the coffee out of the fire. He poured them both a cup, adding extra chocolate to Sam's. "I have some protein powder."

"Gray slime, my favorite." Sam took the cup from Dean. "I think I know why they haven't come in here after us."

"Why?"

"It's cultivated land."

"What?"

"This was a homestead. All that's left is their orchard, but it still counts as cultivated land. They probably farmed up and down this side of the river."

"Okay." Dean looked at him. "It's cultivated land."

"They're forest demons. Cultivated land repels them like rock salt. They can't come through the orchard to get to us."

"Great. They can't get to us, we can sleep tonight. But how do we get out of here?"

"Dad found a spell for a weapon, and some lore about using cultivated wood for a spear," Sam said, running his finger down a page of their father's journal.

"From these trees?" Dean stood and walked to one of the trees. There was a broken branch lying beneath the tree. "This is pretty straight. Okay, I'll make a spear. What's the other weapon?" When Sam was silent, Dean looked at his brother. "Sam?"

"We can use the machete. I think the spell will work on that."

"The machete?" Dean asked. "Oh, dude, you're kidding me."

"What's that?" Sam asked with a grin.

"A magical sword? Please say it isn't a magical sword."

"You have the spear and it'll be a machete…"

"See? See, Sam? That's why I hate camping."

"You hate camping because of an apple wood spear and a magical machete?"

"I hate camping because when we camp I have to worry about things like spears and magical machetes," Dean grumbled. Sam laughed. Dean grinned back. "Okay, so spell."

"We need to do it at moonrise. That's about eleven I think."

"Okay." Dean sat down beside Sam and pulled out his knife, using it to sharpen the stick. He sipped his coffee as he worked. He leaned against Sam, so their shoulders were in contact as he worked. Sam was quiet. Dean looked over to check on his brother, Sam's eyes were closed, dark circles under his eyes. Dean could see lines caused by pain on his brother's face. _Oh god, Sammy. _

"I'm okay," Sam said without opening his eyes.

"Sure you are." Dean nudged him with his shoulder. "You want a little more coffee?"

"No, I've had enough." Sam opened his eyes. "When did it get dark?"

"After the sun set." Dean grinned.

"You think?" Sam sighed. "You should get some sleep, Dean. They can't get to us here."

"Still need to keep a watch." Dean said, reaching for the coffee pot.

"Set your phone like you did last night. They can't get in, and as long as the fire's burning I don't think we'll have a problem with animals. Just make sure you're awake to perform the spell."

"I'll need your help with that, Sammy."

"I might not be much help, Dean," Sam said, meeting his eyes.

_Oh god, Sam, what now? _Dean knew the look. "What?"

"Would you…?" Sam sat up so the sleeping bag dropped away. He tugged at his t-shit, pulling it up so Dean could see his chest. "They're growing again, aren't they? Not just in my shoulder either."

Dean prodded the black growth on Sam's side with his finger. "It's not that big."

"Not yet, but the one in my shoulder came back. There must have been something in that drink."

"Yeah." Dean watched the growth. "It's not wriggling around yet." _I don't think it's growing as fast. Maybe we got enough out of him to slow it down a little? The first started growing right after he had it, but then…could be. Does that mean I have time? _

"Dean…"

"It's okay, Sam. We'll get them off."

"My head."

"What?"

"Where the first trap hit me." Sam turned so Dean could see the carefully stitched wound.

"Shit," Dean whispered.

"Yeah," Sam said quietly. "That's what I thought."

_**To Be Continued**_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Sorry this update took a little longer than usual. I am flat up against the deadline for my novel, so I was frantically working on that. Until Sam and Dean got a little pesky and wouldn't leave me alone! Thank you everyone for your patience and reviews. They mean a lot! _

**Welcome to the Jungle**

**Chapter Ten**

The fire snapping broke the silence. The soft sounds of the night were whispering around them. Something squeaked in the forest above them, something was rustling in the leaves of the orchard. A quiet figure slipped through the trees, a pregnant doe, her body heavy, her steps nearly silent. Sam could hear the demons moving around in the forest outside of the ring of cultivated land. A shouting bark, a laugh, bounced through the forest.

"How bad is it?" Sam asked softly. "And Dean? Don't bother saying it's not bad. I can feel the thing moving under my scalp." Sam watched his brother's face. Dean schooled his features, but not before Sam saw complete panic in his brother's eyes.

"Bad," he said. "But it should be easier to get off your head. Nice hard bone, nothing to latch on, too."

Sam raised a hand towards the back of his head. Dean slapped it away. "You have to get that off me."

"Oh, you think?" Dean tried for an annoyed chuckle, it very nearly worked. "Let me get that spear point and some better light." Dean put their lantern on the rock and pumped it up, lighting it and adjusting the flame on the mantles. The hiss of the pressurized light added a small bit of civilization to the inky night. Sam heard Dean swallow convulsively.

"Cutting the stitches might make it easier, Dean."

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Nothing. Do you want a drink? Did it help last time?"

"Yeah, it did," Sam said, reaching for the flask Dean offered him. "Do you need one?" he asked, then smiled. Dean looked sick. "Or would you like to lose dinner first?" He took a sip from the flask. "You look a little green."

"Shut up, Sam," Dean growled and gave him a little shove.

"Well you…" Sam broke off as he felt one of the tendrils wriggling its way down his skull. The movement made him gag, he tried to keep his hands still, he wanted reach up and tear the thing away himself. "Hurry, Dean. It's moving."

"Yeah, I can see." Dean swallowed again and pushed Sam's head forward with shaking hands. Sam felt the touch of the knife as Dean began cutting through the stitches in his scalp.

"Shit that hurts."

"Maybe you should take another drink and bite on a stick."

"So I'll shut the hell up?" Sam asked through clenched teeth.

"That's the idea." Dean paused. Sam felt him poke at the growth, pain shot down through his jaw line. "Sorry."

Sam took a drink. "It's okay, Dean." The tendril was slowly creeping down his skull. Sam could feel the end of it weaving back and forth, like it was searching for something. Realization curled through him, fear upon fear. _No, oh god, please no. _"Foramen magnum," he said, the panic filtering through his voice.

"Planning an exorcism, there, Sammy?" Dean asked.

"It's the opening at the base of the skull. The one cannibals enlarge when they eat human brains."

"You are such a geek."

"Dean! It's looking for a way into my brain."

"Oh," Dean said calmly, his hands suddenly ice cold against Sam's head. "We better get it off then."

"Yeah." The thing was moving back and forth, inching closer and closer. "Dean, please."

"I'm hurrying," Dean said quietly, his hands had stopped shaking.

A surge of pain from the back of his head forced a groan. He fumbled around for a stick. _Biting my tongue off is not a good idea. _The thought was fuzzy, the effects of the alcohol working their way through his body. He clamped down on the stick as Dean started cutting on the fungus. The tendril shot down his skull, Sam felt the bite of the knife low down on his scalp. The wriggling stopped for a moment, the agony increased. The other growths on his body, in reaction to the surgery on his scalp, drove into his muscles, twisting their way further into open wounds. Sam groaned, it slowly increased until he could hear himself screaming as he bit down on the stick. He felt it snap in his mouth.

"Almost done," Dean said urgently and Sam felt his brother's hand close around the growth and start to pull, the tendrils tried to drive their way into his skull, the others burrowed into his body, hanging on as Dean pulled the thing from his scalp. The agony increased, Sam couldn't stop the scream. "Faint, Sammy, come on," Dean said under his breath. Sam wasn't sure if he was meant to hear the quiet words. The hands dropped from the back of his head. Sam opened his eyes to look at Dean. His brother gently pulled the stick from his mouth. "Sorry, Sammy."

"What?" Sam asked as Dean's fist shot out and connected, there was a flash of pain and then nothing.

Consciousness returned slowly. First there was only an awareness of the cool air against his face and the smell of coffee. Then pain found him, running through his body with an ache, deep down, resonating in his bones. A cool hand touched his forehead, he heard Dean sigh, then footsteps moving away from him. Sam opened his eyes, the clearing was still lit by the lantern. He was closer to the fire than before, propped up against a log. Stars sparkled in the sky, the moon was up, hanging low in the horizon. Dean was pacing along the edge of the clearing, stopping to peer into the orchard as he moved.

"Dean?" he called softly.

"Sam?" Dean turned around and walked quickly back to him. "How do you feel?"

"Did you punch me?" Sam asked, rubbing a hand across his jaw.

"Yeah." Dean ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay, Dean," he said softly, trying to remove the look of guilt from his brother's face.

"I couldn't think of anything else to do, Sam, and those things, I could see them…" Dean swallowed.

"I know." Sam shifted, lifting the sleeping bag and pulling up his shirt. The growths were gone, only black ooze covering the bandages. "Did you get them all?" _Lie, Dean, tell me it's going to be okay, like the time when we were kids._

"Yeah." Dean dropped down beside him, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Thanks." Sam looked up at the moon, watching a cloud drift in front of it. Something was niggling at his mind. "The ritual!"

"What?" Dean looked at him with a frown.

"The ritual, for the…"

"The magical sword? Yeah, been there, done that." Dean sounded aggrieved.

"Why does it bother you?" Sam asked, taking the cup of coffee Dean handed him.

"Why does what bother me?"

"The machete."

Dean sighed, he sounded weary, resigned, exhausted beyond his ability to cope. "Because it's a freaking magical sword to fight freaking orcs."

"We use magical items all the time, Dean," Sam said reasonably.

"Not magical swords, Sam."

_What's going on, Dean? Well? Something is bothering you, what? _"Dean?"

His brother ran a hand over his face. "I…" He reached for the coffee pot again, Sam put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"You need to sleep."

"No, I'm okay."

"You need sleep, Dean," Sam said, watching Dean's face. His brother was shaking his head. _You need sleep, damn it. _Sam sighed, he hated to do it, but he knew it was the only way to get his brother to rest. "You have to…"

"No, I'm fine."

"You're exhausted. How many times have you told me tired people make mistakes, Dean? Risking me is fine, but I won't let them kill you because you refuse to sleep." It was unfair and he knew it, he knew what Dean would latch on to in that statement.

"Risking you…?" Dean scrubbed a hand across his face again. "You're right, I can't afford to play with your life. I need to sleep. They can't get in here. Okay. An hour, then wake me?"

"Sure, Dean," Sam said. _And I'm lying to you, I'll let you sleep till morning if possible._

"Thanks." Dean leaned back against the log Sam was propped against. "An hour, Sammy, no more." He shifted so his shoulder was in contact with Sam, dropped his head back against the log and was asleep before Sam could answer.

Sam looked at the fire, a spark drifted lazily up into the sky, blending with the bright points of light. A sound to his left pulled his attention away from the stars. He glanced over, something big was moving through the orchard. The wind brought a musky scent into the clearing. _Bear. _He wasn't sure why he recognized the scent, but he was sure that was what was out there. Sam watched the shadow as it skirted the clearing, careful to stay in the fruit trees. He saw the bright sparkle of its eyes before it moved away. _Glad I didn't panic and wake Dean. _

Sam shifted. He had the oddest urge to get up and follow the bear through the fruit trees, out to where the orcs were working. _That can't be good. _The journal was sitting on the pack, he could just grab it without shifting enough to wake Dean. He flipped to the pages about the forest demons and began reading the last part of their father's entry. The part he hadn't mentioned to Dean, the part that was terrifying him now, the part his father had copied some of an older text.

_The forest demons do not increase their numbers through procreation, but rather through a form of possession. Lore states that they transform humans in order to increase the population. The rate of the transition is not mentioned call Bobby? nor if there is a way to reverse the "possession." Resistance seems to result in death. See Lackland for ref. The groups are mobile and regularly move to new territory. Now that they are gone from where the boys encountered them—where are they? Which way would they go? Check missing hiker reports. _

There were several notes and clippings about hikers going missing. Starting in the Rocky Mountains where they'd first run into them, then slowly moving West. _Does dad suspect they're here? _Sam felt the first whisper of something in his shoulder. He looked down, the thing was growing again, a tendril snaking in to the wound. Sam pulled at it, pain ran down the slash in his side like molten lava. _They're all growing again. I don't have much time. _He pulled the pen out of the spine of the journal and started making notes just in case something happened before Dean was awake.

**XXX**

Sunlight woke him. The first rays of the morning sun against his eyelids pulled him from a dream of a smoky bar. Dean shifted, still more asleep than awake, the warmth next to him moved. Dean pulled himself a little further from sleep and realized he could smell fresh coffee. He opened his eyes. Sam was leaning forward, peering into the coffee pot.

"Watched coffee never boils, Sammy," Dean said, sitting up.

"Hey." Sam turned around with a smile. "How do you feel?"

"Like you let me sleep too damn long." Dean frowned. "I told you an hour."

"I overruled you."

"You don't get that as an option, Sam." He deepened his frown.

Sam grinned. "I'm scared now."

"What?"

"That's your scary 'you better do what I say or else' look. I'm scared." Sam chuckled.

"Very funny. I mean it. What if something had happened?" Dean demanded. Sam looked away, guilt crossing his face. "Sam? What?"

"Nothing happened. I would have let you know."

"Sam?"

"There was a bear. He was around most of the night. And they tossed a couple of spears in. They're over there." Sam pointed to the spears lying about ten feet from the fire. "I don't think they can see us though, and were trying to maybe aim at the fire?"

"You should have got me up," Dean said, standing and walking to the weapons lying on the ground. The spear point glittered in the morning light. Dean picked one up. It was dripping with a dark liquid. He sniffed it, it smelled like what Sam had vomited up after the demons had forced him to drink the contents of the skin. _What are they doing? Trying to give Sam more of that stuff? Why? What's going on? _He paced to the edge of the clearing, looking towards the sound of activity.

"What are they doing?" Sam asked.

"I can't quite see." Dean turned and walked back to the fire. "Smells like the coffee's ready." He pulled the pot out of the fire and poured a cup for himself and Sam. "You shouldn't have let me sleep so long, Sam." _I did need the sleep and we're safe here._

"Why not? We're safe in here, they seem less active at night. You needed the sleep."

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Nothing." Dean looked at Sam. His bother had dark circles that stretched from under his eyes down his cheeks—black eyes on a bruised cheek. Sam's hands were shaking so badly he could barely keep the cup still enough to sip at the coffee. Deep lines of pain grooved his mouth. _Oh god, Sammy. I'll get you out of here. _"You find anything in the journal?" He reached for the book. Sam tried to grab it away. Dean snatched it out of his brother's hand.

"Dean…" Sam put his hand over Dean's, stopping him from opening the journal. "We need to talk."

_Oh god. I know that tone. I've heard it before. _"Don't say you're dying again. I told you, we aren't discussing that."

"I think it's worse than that, Dean. They're growing again."

Dean looked up and met his brother's eyes. There was something wild lurking there, something terrified, something panicked. Sam was hiding something. "Sammy?"

"Dean…I…"

The scream that broke the quiet of the forest was loud enough to startle a bird from the trees. A squirrel shot across the clearing, fleeing from the sound. Dean was up before he realized he'd moved. The scream had come from the other side of the fruit trees where the orcs were working on their trebuchet. _No, I have to stay with Sam. _Another scream, louder, terrified, definitely human. He ground his teeth together. "Sam…"

"Go, Dean, it'll only take a minute. I'm safe for now."

Dean picked up the machete, the apple wood spear and grabbed the binoculars from the pack. "Stay here. Remember what we talked about?"

"Yeah, stay here, even if you start screaming bloody murder, stay put," Sam said sourly.

"Right." Dean was moving through the trees as another scream ripped through the quiet forest. He edged along from trunk to trunk, trying to mask his movements. _That way if the freaking orc decide to lob a spear in here, they might miss me completely. _He worked his way around the orchard so he could stay in the cover and safety of the fruit trees. There was another scream and then a desperate whimpering someone repeating "no" over and over again. The orcs' barking laugh followed closely after the last scream. Dean eased out of the trees to see down where the demons were working. _The freaking trebuchet's finished. Great. Nice stockpile of stones there too. Oh my god. _

A human, or what was left of one, was hanging from a tree, bloody wounds still dripping. From the way the body was hanging Dean could tell she was dead. _Bait like Sammy? Or is it something different. Oh god, is it like they're aging meat? _

It was the other person he spotted that held him riveted to his spot. A man, his age, maybe a little younger. One orc was holding him up, the other was pouring the black liquid from a skin into the man's mouth. Dean could see the black fungus already growing on the man. The demons were laughing. When the skin was empty they dropped the man on the ground.

Dean moved closer. Steadying his hand against a branch, he looked through the binoculars at the man. The fungus was growing quickly. _Getting it out of Sam was a good idea. I wonder if that was this guy's first dose?_ Dean could see one growth on the back of the man's head. It looked like the one he'd cut off Sam.

Through the high-power binoculars Dean could make out the wriggling tendril as it slid through the man's hair and down his head. It looked like an earthworm searching for a way back into the ground. As Dean watched the tendril reached the bottom of the man's skull. There was a rush of blood, the man screamed, stiffened and relaxed. The fungus practically exploded, quickly engulfing the man's body until he was completely covered, looking like a mat of dark mushrooms and soil resting on the forest floor. One of the demons came over and nudge the mass with its toe. It said something to the other, then walked over towards the woman's body, pulling out a knife. Dean turned away before they started butchering her.

He walked quickly back through the trees, the walk becoming a run as the realization of what he'd witness began filtering through his brain. Panic drove him to a mad dash through the trees. "Sam! Sammy!" He burst through the trees and ran into his brother. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, pushing away from Sam.

"You're the one screaming," Sam said, running anxious eyes over him. "What's wrong?"

Dean looked at his brother. One of the black growths was wriggling around on Sam shoulder. What he'd witness blended with what he was seeing. The coffee decided it had hung around long enough. He was aware of Sam's trembling hand on his back as he vomited. When he was finished he stood and pulled Sam towards the fire.

"Dean what it is? What happened?" Sam sat back down on the sleeping bag. "Dean?"

Dean ignored his brother, grabbing the obsidian spear point and the alcohol. "Have to get them off." _Oh god, I can't can I. It's in him, no matter what I do, oh god, oh god. I can't get them off. _

"I don't think you can," Sam said gently.

"Stop that," Dean growled.

"Stop what?"

"Stop—never mind," Dean said. His brother looked at him with a frown. "I need to get them off."

"Dean, what did you see?"

"Sam…" _I can't tell you. If I tell you it makes it real. _

"Would it help if I said I probably know?" Sam reached for the journal, flipping the pages open. "I…I found this last night." Dean looked down at the book. His father's handwriting, a copy of a woodcut, the picture finally made sense. He'd noticed it before, but had taken the drawing to be a fresh grave. Now he understood, it was the remains of a human being, consumed by the black fungus. "It's how they propagate," Sam said quietly.

"Orc eggs?" Dean kept his voice calm. _Which is a good trick. I want to scream. _He pulled the flask out. "You wan t a sip, or should I just hit you?"

"You can't keep cutting those things off for the rest of my life, Dean,"

"Yeah, I can." Dean pushed Sam's head forward. The fungus was already covering the wound again, the first tiny tendrils snaking through Sam's hair, wriggling under his scalp. Dean swallowed down the rush of nausea.

"At least you'll get a chance to see if the machete or the spear works before you face more than one."

_That better not mean what I think it means. _"Shut up. That is not even a little funny, or ironic or anything else." He stopped as one of the tendrils wriggled across his hand. Dean grabbed it and sliced it in two. Sam moaned in pain. "Sorry. I have to get this off, Sam."

"Dean…"

"You are getting out of here alive, Sam." _There's no other option. _"Even if I have to fight every freaking orc on the planet. And you know that gets better every time I say it. Orcs. How the hell did orcs end up here?" He slid the knife under the edge of the growth. Sam tensed. "Sorry."

"It's okay, Dean, get it off. I can feel it." Under the calm tone, Dean heard complete panic and horrified terror in his brother's voice. "Dean, please don't let me become…"

"I won't, that's what we're working on." Another tendril worked its way across his hand, stabbing into the flesh with a sharp point. "Son of a bitch." Dean cut it off and started back on the fungus. The roots were multiplying faster this time. "Sorry," he said when Sam yelped in pain.

"Don't let me…"

"Shut up, Sam."

"Dean, there's one…" Sam said, his voice completely panicked.

"I see it." Dean could see the tendril working its way under Sam's scalp. "This will hurt at bit." He shoved the knife into the tendril. The bottom half stopped wriggling.

"Dean!"

He looked down, another fungus had appeared on Sam's scalp, below the first. Dean cut it off. Sam groaned, the sound working its way towards a scream. "Sorry," he whispered. "There's no time to put you out, Sam, sorry." He felt his brother's nod under his hand. Another tendril slipped under his hand. Dean cut it off.

"Too late," Sam whispered. "Dean, I'm sorry."

"What?" Dean said, cutting another piece from the growth. Then he felt it. There was no way to stop them, there were too many, it was too late. They had worked their way under his frantic hands. He stabbed madly at the writhing roots, trying to stop them. He felt the one that slipped to the base of Sam's skull. He sliced it in two, but another had made its way down and another.

Sam screamed.

Dean caught his brother as the tremor made muscles rigid. He held him as Sam tried to fight what was happening. Held him as Sam relaxed and the black growths covered his brother's body with amazing speed.

"Sammy?" he whispered.

_No, please no. Oh god. Please no._

_**To Be Continued**_


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing. I'm sorry this took a little longer than I hoped. Deadline is Tuesday, so I am frantically scrambling, but managed to sneak enough time for this. Thanks to Dennis and TraSan for all their help. _

**Welcome to the Jungle**

**Chapter Eleven**

The sounds of the forest, of life, twisted around Dean. The fire was still crackling, the last of the wood burning with very little smoke. The trees were full of birds, the river was gurgling over rocks, a happy note in the bright morning.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered, holding what was left of his brother. "Sammy?" He could hear the desperate note in his voice.

Something moved on his hand. Dean looked down as a tendril from the growths covering Sam squirmed across his hand. He watched it for a second before moving his hand out from under the writhing root. Another tendril tried to work its way onto his hand, and as it did something wriggled up Dean's neck, heading towards his face. He moved his head, the tendril continued inching up his face. Dean could feel something that felt like little claws slowly easing up his face, heading towards his eye. He tried to pull away as something clamped down on his hand, tearing flesh away.

"Shit!" Dean shouted, scrambling away from Sam, madly brushing the seeking tendrils off his skin. Some of the tendrils had broken free and were trying to work their way up Dean's back. He yanked off his shirt, the writhing mass dropped to the ground. He kicked it into the fire, watching it burn to ash before turning back to Sam.

"Oh god, Sammy." His brother was gone, completely consumed by the black growths. Dean swallowed hard when he realized the whole mass was moving, writhing over and under itself like an army of swarming ants. Dean looked away. "I'm sorry." He tamped down the urge to grab the machete and spear and go after the orcs. "Running over there right now won't get you out of this, Sam. And I am getting you out, got it?" He sat down and picked up their father's journal with shaking hands. Dean made sure he was out of reach of the wriggling black mass.

Dean turned to the page with the information on the forest demons, quickly reading over their father's notes. He flipped to the next page and a piece of paper dropped on the ground. Dean picked it up, Sam's handwriting.

"_Dean, I'm not sure how much time I actually have left. The orcs propagate by turning humans into demons. I think that's what's happening to me. I think if you survive the 'test' of the traps, they choose you to become one of them. I think that's what's happened. I found a couple of interesting things in the journal and in that article dad had taped on the page. It takes three doses of the stuff to complete the transformation. I think the first was on the traps, that's why the wounds were oozing black, the second they gave me, so there is still a third dose needed. I have no idea what happens if I don't get that third dose. The growths need to be fed. Again I don't know what happens if they aren't…Don't let me become one, Dean. Stop it, please.—Sam."_

There were a few notes on the back of the page. Most were unintelligible scribbles. Dean frowned at the page. "What do these notes mean?" he said to his brother. "Cultivated land, yeah, we know about that. And the cultivated wood for the spear. But what's 'meds?' mean? 'Contact?' What Sam? What were you trying to tell me? And 'food?' Oh, the growths need to eat. What do they eat, Sammy? Oh god…" Dean trailed off. He reached out and laid his hand on the mass of growths writhing over Sam's body. As soon as his hand touched the surface, tendrils started working their way towards his hand. He could feel seeking roots under his palm. Dean waited, watching in fascinated horror as one of the tendrils started clawing at the top of his hand, peeling a strip of skin and flesh off before Dean snatched his hand away.

He picked up the spear and the machete. "I'll be right back, Sammy. I'm going to go take a look at the orcs. I'll be back in ten minutes, no more, okay?" Dean walked out of the clearing and into the fruit trees without looking back at the black mound that was Sam.

Dean could hear the orcs moving around in the trees outside the ring of cultivated land. Occasionally one of them would bark out a harsh call, finally echoing in the distance, Dean heard the answering call. _Oh, great, now what? The orc armies? Strike that, I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it, hear me? _Dean addressed the silent universe, regretting even giving voice to the thought. _No orc armies. _He slipped between the trees and walked silently up the hill to where he could over look the area the orcs were working.

The pile of stones by the trebuchet had gotten larger, the rocks were joined by several crude bowls. _What the hell? _Dean glanced across the clearing, the body had been butchered, only the trunk and arms were let suspended from the tree. He looked towards the writhing mound where the man had fallen, what was left of a foot was slowly being consumed by the wriggling black tendrils. _That's just gross. _

Dean eased closer, as close as he could and still stay in the protection of the fruit trees. The orcs were piling stones beside the trebuchet. One carried a skin over to the bowls and started filling them with liquid. They loaded one of the bowls into the "bucket" of the catapult and launched it. The bowl arched over the trees, heading towards the clearing. It tumbled as it flew, spilling the contents on the apple trees. Dean heard it shatter when it hit the ground. The demons started arguing, at least that's what Dean thought they were doing. He didn't care, he was running back towards the trees, hoping to get back before they launched another bowl of the liquid.

He broke into the clearing. The bowl had hit the ground on the far side of the clearing, well away from Sam. Dean heard the demons growling voices as he reached the fire. "I figured out how they are going to try and get the third dose to you." Dean heard a whooshing sound and a stone slammed into the ground close to where the remnants of the bowl were scattered. "Trying to get the range, I guess."

Dean dropped down beside the fire, tossing in a small log and waiting until it caught before pushing the coffee pot back in the fire. "You think I can get coffee poisoning? I might have had a little more than is recommended for human consumption." He scrubbed a hand across his face, then looked over at Sam. The wind had changed and the smoke from the fire was flowing over the black mound. "What do I do? Sam?" Dean sighed, watching the smoke as it curled into the sky. He looked back over at his brother.

And froze.

The side of the mound the smoke had touched wasn't wriggling as much. Dean moved closer, the growths had definitely slowed on the smoky side. He stuck a finger on the growths, one sluggish tendril started snaking towards his hand. Dean pulled his hand away. "Apple wood. The fire is made from apple wood! The smoke must affect the growths, what do you think, Sam?"

A low moan, so quiet that Dean didn't believe his ears at first, drifted out of the mound.

"Sam? Sammy? Can you hear me?" Dean put his hand back on the mound, digging his fingers through the growths, feeling the acid burn as he pushed his hand down to rest on Sam. His brother's arm was trembling, Dean could feel the tendrils moving under Sam's skin. "Sammy? I'm here, hang on." The arm under his hand moved a tiny bit. Dean looked at the mound, at Sam, tears in his eyes. "How do I keep you in the smoke?" Dean looked around desperately, hoping to find something to fan the smoke towards his brother. "Wait…What about ashes? Do you think that would help?" He thought he heard another moan. "Okay, Sammy, hang on, I have an idea."

**XXX**

The pain had been almost more than he could bear, but it wasn't only the pain. That wasn't the worst part of it. No, the worst part had been the sensation of the tendrils as the moved across his scalp and wriggled in the wounds on his body. Dean's frantic efforts had slowed the inevitable, but there was no stopping it. Sam knew that, even as Dean struggled to cut the things off his head. He'd known it the night before when he'd written the letter.

It was during Dean's last futile attempt to save him the pain had finally become too much. The tendril that had escaped Dean's desperate surgery stabbed its way into Sam. Pain blasted into his head with the force of an eruption. The growths on his body were moving in a macabre dance as the single tendril pressed against Sam, stabbing, seeking. He heard himself scream. Dean's arms closed around him, holding him as Sam tried to fight the thing that was working its way along the base of his skull. It found what it was looking for, there was another surge of pain, unbearable this time, and then darkness.

The sensation of suffocating brought him to terrifying awareness. _Dean! Dean!_ _Help me, please, Dean. _

"I'll be right back, Sammy. I'm going to go take a look at the orcs. I'll be back in ten minutes, no more, okay?"

_Dean? _Sam felt the impact of Dean's footsteps as he walked away. Terror consumed him. _He left, he left me here. _He tried to push himself free of the growths, he could feel them moving over his body, under his skin. _No! No, Dean will be back, he said he'd be back. Oh god…_He felt his heart speed up, the growths stopped moving a little. He fought harder, his heart slamming against his ribcage. The fungus stopped moving. _Maybe I can…_He felt one tendril slide slowly down his neck. The other tendrils had stopped moving, but this one—he could feel it, seeking back and forth, a tiny worm inching down his neck. It stopped. Sam felt it tap against his neck. _Tap, tap, tap. _A gentle prodding. _Tap, tap. _The tendril slid a tiny bit further. _Tap, tap. _An inch further. _Tap, tap. _Sam was getting used to the gentle tapping. A little further. _Tap, tap. _A pause. _Tap, tap. _

Then the tapping changed, became a steady pressure. Sam screamed silently as the thing pushed its way into his neck. There was a blinding flash, running up to the top of his head, down to his toes and then nothing.

Sam wondered if he'd lost consciousness again, until he felt the things on his head start to move. He could feel them on his scalp and face, on his neck and shoulders, but nothing else. His heart was beating, he could feel the frantic pulse in his temples, he was breathing, he could feel a soft wispy touch as a tendril moved with his inhale and exhale. But that was all, nothing else. _Paralyzed. It paralyzed me. It can't be permanent, how could I become one if I couldn't move? _The calm thought seemed out of place against the pounding beat in his temples and the growing need to scream. _Just give in. I can't fight it forever, I should just…_

Something slammed into the ground, he wasn't sure if he heard or felt the impact. _What was that? Dean? Are you okay? _The tendrils on his face were beginning to press against his eyes, he thought he could feel one moving along the edge of an eyelid. _No, please no. I can't fight it…_The tendril slid under his eyelid and over the eye. _No…_He started relaxing, letting the seeking roots find their way in.

"I figured out how they are going to try and get the third dose to you," Dean's voice pulled him back again. _No, no. I have to fight. Dean? Dean, are you there? _ Something slammed into the ground again. "Trying to get the range, I guess," Dean said. Sam focused on the voice, he thought the tendrils slowed their progress. _What's going on? _Dean was talking about coffee, part of Sam smiled at that. Dean talking just to talk. Sam remembered once when they were children and he'd been sick, high fever and laryngitis. Dean had sat beside him and talked, answering himself if he felt the need, but he'd talked for hours. Somehow his voice made it better, even when Sam was asleep Dean's voice had kept him safe.

"What do I do? Sam?" Dean asked. Sam heard the fear, the panic, in his brother's voice. Dean was completely shattered.

_Dean…Wait…_Sam noticed the tendrils on the right side of his head had slowed even further, something was affecting them. _Dean! Dean! _Sam wondered if he could get his brother's attention.

"Apple wood. The fire is made from apple wood! The smoke must affect the growths, what do you think, Sam?"

"Dean!" Sam hoped his brother would hear him, understand.

"Sam? Sammy? Can you hear me?" Dean asked. Sam felt something, the mass of growths was moving away from his right side, shifting to the left. He felt the movement on his head and shoulders. Something touched his upper arm. _Dean. _"Sammy? I'm here, hang on. How do I keep you in the smoke? Wait…What about ashes? Do you think that would help?"

"Dean…"

"Okay, Sammy, hang on, I have an idea." The touch on his upper arm moved away. _Don't leave, Dean, keep talking. _"I need to let them cool off a bit," Dean said. "I wonder how many I need?" Sam couldn't hear anything but Dean's voice. He had no idea what his brother was doing. Something slammed into the ground. "Still on the other side of the clearing. I think they're bad shots, Sammy." The tone of Dean's voice had changed. It was "I can do something about this" Dean. The Dean who was almost in control of the situation, or so he told himself. Sam drew strength from his brother's tone. "They'll probably try tossing another bowl over here pretty soon. I won't let anymore of that shit get on you. Okay, Sammy, I don't know what's going to happen."

Sam waited, the tendrils on his head, behind his eyes stopped moving. _What's happening? _He could feel something crawling up the skin on his throat. Something else was on his neck, the seeking root stopped moving.

"Dean," he said. He heard his own voice that time, a wordless moan.

"Hold on, Sammy, just hold on a minute more."

"Hurry." It sounded like a moan, but Dean must have understood.

"I'm hurrying, Sam…Damn…I'll make more when I'm done. Hang on, Sammy." Sam felt Dean's hands on his head, pulling at the growths. "Oh god, Sam. Oh god."

**XXX**

"Okay, Sammy, I don't know what's going to happen," Dean said, kneeling down beside Sam and scooping some of the warm ashes onto the edge of the mound. The fungus stopped moving. Dean put his hand on the spot, nothing happened. _Okay, where's his head? _After looking at the mound for a second, Dean began carefully putting ashes on the area he was sure was where Sam's head was under the growths. _Still not sure what's going to happen, when I tried to cut them off, they attacked him. _Dean spotted one worm like tendril moving under the mass. Dean pushed his hands through the growths and laid a line of ashes across Sam's neck.

"Nnnnn," Sam moaned.

"Hold on, Sammy, just hold on a minute more," Dean said, scooping more ashes onto Sam's head.

"Hrrrrr."

"I'm hurrying Sam." Dean sprinkled the last of the ashes on Sam's shoulders. "Damn, I'll make more when I'm done. Hang on Sammy." Taking a deep breath, he began pulling the fungus off Sam's head. Dean started at the top, waiting to see what the other growths would do as he pulled the tendrils off his brother. The ones lower on his body were still writhing, moving, swarming over Sam, but none came close the line of ashes Dean had laid across Sam's shoulders and neck. Dean finally felt Sam's hair under his hand, he moved forward on Sam's head, gently pulling the layers of black fungus off Sam. It felt like hours, he knew it was only minutes, before he touched the skin on Sam's face.

"Oh god, Sam. Oh god," he said quietly. The tendrils covered Sam's face, running into his eyes, nose and mouth. Dean pulled at the one covering Sam's lips, gagging as it came out. Then he moved to Sam's nose, pulling those away. It was when he got to Sam's eyes, he stopped. He looked at the fungus on Sam's right eye, it didn't seem as large as the other. "This might feel weird, Sammy."

"Mm hmm," Sam mumbled.

Dean smiled. "Ready?" He tugged at the growth. Sam moaned, but it came free, the long tendrils sliding out. _Oh my god. _"Gross," Dean said, keeping his voice light. "Can you open your eye?" Sam's eyelid slid open a fraction, then closed. "Let me get a little water to rinse it, okay?" Dean grabbed the backpack and pulled out a bottle of water. He poured it over the right side of Sam's face. Sam's eye opened again. "Can you see?" Dean held his breath, hoping he hadn't damaged Sam's eye when he pulled the thing off.

Sam's eye rolled towards him. "Blur…"

"Hey." Dean grinned in relief. "It's blurry?"

"Get left…"

"No. It's too big, I don't want to damage something. I'm lucky I didn't already."

"Be'r than on me."

"No, we'll let a doctor take care of that one. You want something to drink?"

"Can't. In me," Sam said.

"In you?" Dean swallowed, his relief vanishing. "I'll make more ashes and get you out of there, maybe if I put ashes in water?" Dean got up and put several branches on the fire, wondering how long he had before there was enough ash to free Sam's upper body. A whooshing noise sounded over his head and a rock slammed into one of the apple trees across the clearing, shattering the tree. Another stone followed the first, finishing the destruction.

"Neck."

"What?"

"My neck."

"What about your neck, Sammy?" Dean asked as he bent to look. The front of Sam's neck was clear of the fungus, the back still had a few tendrils. Dean froze. "Oh my god."

"Off."

"No."

"Please. Can't move."

"Hell no, Sam. It's buried in your neck. What if I pull it out and…god…"

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I'm not going to even try and get that one out." Dean laid his hand on Sam's forehead. Another rock flew over his head and smashed into a tree across the clearing. A second later, one of the bowls arced into the clearing, bouncing a little closer to Sam. Dean waited, counting the seconds, before another rock flew into the trees.

"Talk," Sam said.

"What?"

"Talk. Keeps me here."

"Sure." Dean watched as another stone smashed into the trees across the clearing. "They seem to have the range, but what are they doing?"

"Trees, land."

"What?" Dean frowned at Sam. "The trees?"

"Yeah." A flash of pain registered in Sam's eye. Dean stroked Sam's forehead with his thumb.

"Oh. If they destroy the trees, they can come through and get us? Like taking out a wall? But what about the cultivated land? If they can destroy it…can they get in here?"

"Think so."

"But why haven't they done that before?" _No reason too before now. They want Sam, now that they are turning him into one of them._

"No need before. Want me."

"Stop that," Dean said, smiling.

"Stop what?"

"Nothing." Dean looked at the fire, two of the branches had burned away. He got up and grabbed the small camp shovel and dug the ashes out of the fire. He tossed another log one and carried the ashes over to Sam.

"Right arm," Sam said as Dean debated where to put the ashes.

"Your arm? Not your chest?"

"Want to see…"

_Oh god, he wants to know how bad the paralysis is. _"Okay, Sammy, right arm." Dean poured the ashes over Sam, waiting till the tendrils stopped moving before pulling them away. He could see small bulges under Sam's skin. "Can you move it?" Sam closed his eye, his face a mask of pain. He lifted his shoulder, then his elbow shifted a little. Dean waited. Nothing more happened. He picked up Sam's hand in his. "Squeeze it." Sam's teeth ground together and Dean could see the muscles in Sam's shoulder trembling with effort. Sam's hand remained motionless in his. "Can you feel my hand?"

"No," Sam said, a tear escaping his eye and running down his cheek. "No, I can't."

"We'll get it fixed."

"Dean…"

"It's probably just an orc epidural, Sammy." Dean forced a laugh.

"So I don't die during the change?"

Dean swallowed. "Yeah, but we'll get it fixed, Sam. We will." He tried for a smile. "Your sentences are getting longer already." Another stone whooshed over their heads, twenty seconds later another, and another, smashing the trees apart. "Fun times," Dean said. He could hear the barking call of the forest demons and an answering call from up the valley.

"More orcs," Sam said.

"Just freaking great, all we need are more orcs. Think they'll bring a troll with them?"

"Cave troll." A small smile played on Sam's lips.

"You know a few days ago, I would have thought that was funny." Dean cocked his head, listening to a far-off sound. "But now, I more than half expect a troll to come through the trees. Think they're bothered by cultivated land?" He turned his head, trying to get a better focus on the sound.

"Don't know."

"You're the geek. You're supposed to know things like that, Sam," he said absently. His whole focus was taken up with listening.

"Dean?"

"You hear that?" Dean looked down at Sam, then closed his eyes. "I'm not imaging it. Sam, do you hear that?" He tried to fight the tears that were suddenly in his eyes.

"Dean? What?"

"You can't…?" Dean paused as the _thump thump thump _of the helicopter got closer. "They're getting close." Dean looked up as the chopper came over the clearing. "There they are. It's Drew." A rock flew into the clearing, just missing the descending helicopter. The pilot pulled up, hovering over them, as another stone, pitched higher, arced towards the chopper. "He can't land with those bastards doing that."

"Dean."

"I have to stop them. Long enough to get you out of here, Sam, that's all."

"Dean, no. Let me…"

Dean squeezed his brother's hand, then put his hand against Sam's head. "Not an option, Sammy. Sorry." He picked up the machete and the spear. "Call me Aragorn," he said, walking out of the clearing and easing through the trees. _Aragorn, not Boromir. As long as Sam is safe, Boromir would be okay, I guess. Killed by freaking orcs in the middle of a national forest. My life is fun. Yep, that's what it is, fun._

Dean moved up the hill, through the fruit trees, hoping he could come in behind the demons. He broke through the fruit trees and got a look up the valley. He could see movement. _Orc armies. Great. I thought I said no orc armies. They aren't that far away…Shit. _He slipped down through the aspen. The two orcs using the trebuchet were focused on the clearing and the helicopter hovering over the trees. _Not scared of the chopper, t they've probably seen them before. _

Dean moved so he was behind the orcs, steadied himself and threw the spear, hoping that it would find its target. The apple wood flew through the air and imbedded itself in the back of one of the demons. As Dean watched the wound opened on the demons back. It was screaming, clawing at the spear. With a last shriek it dropped to the ground, twitching.

The other orc turned to face Dean. It was the one that poured the drink into Sam, the one that had butchered the woman's body. Dean felt a smile on his face. "Oh, yeah, glad it's you."

The demon looked at him and snarled out a few words, drawing something that looked like a crude sword.

"Great." Dean lifted his sword, and with a shout, charged the demon, slashing down as he approached it. The orc easily deflected the blow, backhanding Dean with the grip of its sword. Dean dropped and rolled back onto his feet before the demon could cut at him with its sword. Dean thrust forward with the machete, feinting to the left at the last minute. He felt the blade bite into flesh. The demon growled, swinging at Dean with its sword. Dean ducked the blow, but felt the sting as the blade cut through the flesh on his upper arm.

Dean swiped at the orc again, trying to move the fight closer to the trebuchet. At the edge of his peripheral vision he saw the helicopter drop into the clearing. Dean smiled and dove at the demon, slashing with his machete. The demon blocked the blow and shoved Dean away. Stumbling backward from the force of the blow, Dean fell over one of the supports for the trebuchet. He pushed himself off the machine and swung the machete at the rope holding the basket. The orc half-screamed, half-snarled and rushed towards him. Dean felt the rope give way as the demon slammed into him, driving them both to the ground. Dean's machete flew out of his hand. _Okay, Boromir. _

Dean tried to roll out from under the orc, his right hand desperately seeking the machete. The demon locked its hands around Dean's throat and started squeezing. Dean could hear heavy footfalls approaching them, the impact jarring the ground under him. _Yep, Boromir. _He seeking fingers brushed the edge of the machete. As the dark spots dancing in front of his eyes began to become one large mass, Dean managed to get his hand around the hilt. He picked it up and drove it into the side of the orc, pressing it in as deep as he could before it grated against bone.

The demon screamed and rolled away, reaching to pull the machete out of its side. It pushed itself to its knees before a small glow around the sword began to grow, becoming a bright light that consumed the orc in a flash of light.

Dean pushed himself up, gasping for air, a hand to his bruised throat. "Yeah, it's a magical sword."

Hearing the marching footsteps getting closer, he launched himself into the fruit trees, tearing into the clearing and racing for the waiting helicopter. "There's an army coming," he croaked out as he reached the chopper.

"An army?" Drew asked as he hauled Dean into the helicopter.

"Yeah, orcs…I mean forest demons."

"Get us out of here," Drew shouted to the pilot.

Dean dropped onto the floor beside Sam. "You okay?" Sam asked, opening his right eye.

"Yeah." He was suddenly dizzy. _Best part? Fight an orc and then get to fly. How fun is that? _"I'm Aragorn."

The dizziness was getting worse. Dean leaned his head back against the seat and put his hand on Sam's head. He thought he heard Drew say something about getting buckled in. Dean couldn't hear over the noise of the chopper and the buzzing in his ears, another huge wave of dizziness washed over him. _I wonder if there was something on that sword? _He closed his eyes.

When he felt like opening them again, he realized time had passed. The sound of the helicopter was gone, he was lying on something soft. There was the pulling sensation of stitches in his arm and the tight pinch of an IV in his arm. Dean opened his eyes and looked around the hospital room.

"Welcome back," Drew said from beside the bed. Dean looked over at the gray-haired man.

"Sam?"

"Came through surgery fine."

"But?" Dean could see something in the man's eyes.

"He's still out." Drew looked away for a moment. "How do you feel?"

"Like I spent a week in the forest with a bunch of freaking orcs." Dean pushed himself up in the bed, reaching for the bed's controls. "Is there something to drink? My throat hurts." He tried to swallow. Drew handed him a cup and he sipped at the ice water. "Better. Where's Sam?"

"Down the hall," Drew said. "I'm sorry, Dean. I had no idea when I called that…What are you doing?"

"I need to see Sam."

"Dean, you need to rest."

"No, I need to see Sam."

Drew huffed in frustration. "At least let me get a nurse, okay?"

Several minutes later, Drew was helping Dean down the hall to Sam's room. Dean paused by the door for a moment. _What if…? _He walked in and over to the bed. "Sam?" he said softly. "Sammy?" A bandage covered his brother's left eye, and IV of blood was running into Sam's arm. Dean gently pulled the blanket back. Sam's chest was red—raw from the crawling fungus that had covered him, but it was also flesh colored and free of the growths and the black ooze. The slash on Sam's side was bandaged as well as the wound on his shoulder. There was no black discharge on any of the bandages. Dean breathed a small sigh of relief. "How is he, Drew?"

"We're waiting. They removed the…the…"

"Orc fungus?" Dean offered, dropping into the chair beside the bed.

"Yeah." Drew swallowed.

"How'd they stop it?"

"Cultivated medicine and human blood."

"What?" Dean said in disbelief. "How'd the doctors…"

"They didn't figure it out, John did."

Dean sat up. "Dad? He's here?"

Drew shook his head. "No, sorry. He called, finally. It's why we were out there looking for you. He was a little upset I'd sent you out at all, considering what happened in Montana all those years ago. He lit a fire under my tail and we set out, he told us to look for cultivated land, John said he knew you'd find someplace safe. I remembered the old homestead, so we flew directly there. I called him as soon as I could and told him about Sam. He suggested the medicine and blood. It seemed to work. The fungus stopped moving and died. As soon as it was safe they took Sam up to surgery."

"They got it all out of Sam? Will his eye be okay?" Dean looked at the older man.

"Yeah, they're pretty sure the eye will be fine."

"And the other?" Dean said, suddenly understanding where Drew's hesitation was coming from.

"They don't know, Dean. They got it out….They aren't sure what damage it did."

"Oh." Dean looked over at Sam. "What about the orcs?"

"By the time we got back out there, they'd gone to ground. John thinks they're moving deeper into the forest. I had the whole area shut down." Drew sighed. "I never realized…I'm sorry," he said again.

"Do you think dad will come?" Dean asked, letting his head rest against the back of the chair. He was exhausted, the trip down the hallway seemed further, much further, than it actually had been.

"I don't think so." Drew's voice was fading.

"Okay." Dean closed his eyes. "I need to sleep."

"I'll have someone bring in a blanket," Drew said as Dean drifted off to sleep.

The ache in his neck woke him. Dean blinked and rubbed the back of his neck. _Sleeping in chairs, always fun. _He looked over at Sam, his brother was still unconscious. Dean sighed and stretched sore muscles before walking into the bathroom. The small room had a shower in it. Dean smiled, the thought of a shower was intoxicating. He found fresh clothes on a chair. _Thanks, Drew. _Grabbing a towel out of the closet, he turned the shower on and let the hot water run over sore muscles. When he was finished, he wandered back into the room, grabbed the menu off the bed stand and ordered some food, then turned on the television.

"Civilization, Sammy. Food at the end of a telephone, running water and Judge Judy. Life is looking up." He looked over at his brother and put his hand on Sam's arm. "Hear me, Sam?"

The food arrived, a doctor stopped by to check on both of them, nurses walked in and out. Dean stayed beside Sam's bed. He'd tried calling their father, but the phone, as usual, went to directly to voicemail. Dean growled a little on the last message. He sighed as he flipped his phone closed. When he glanced over to check on Sam, he realized his brother's eye was open. "Sam?"

"Hey. You okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah." Dean buzzed the nurse.

"Good."

The nurse came in, she smiled at Dean and disappeared. She returned with the doctor. Sam watched them quietly. The doctor took the bandage off of Sam's left eye. Dean held his breath. "I can see," Sam said softly.

"Thank god," Dean whispered. Sam glanced over at him.

The doctor was poking at Sam's hands and feet. "Feel anything?" Sam shook his head, tears pooling in his eyes.

"It's okay, Sammy. It'll be better," Dean said, bushing the tears off his brother's cheeks. "It'll get better."

"Promise?" Sam asked, sounding like he had when he was five, needing something desperately, knowing it was out of reach.

"Promise," Dean spoke the magic word. Sam smiled and closed his eyes. His breathing evened off into sleep.

"Sam?" Dean said quietly. No response. Dean smiled and shrugged. "He likes his sleep." He listened as the doctor explained things about cervical vertebrae and nerve damage. Dean tried to listen, the words weren't really processing. All he heard was Sam wasn't getting better. The doctor left, and Dean settled back in the chair. He'd discovered it was a recliner and stretched his legs out. Needing contact with his brother, he put his hand over Sam's and turned his attention back to the television. The local PBS station was in the middle of pledge season and he'd lucked into a "Black Adder" marathon. The prince was attempting to say antidisestablishmentarianism, when a noise from the bed pulled Dean's attention away from the TV.

"Get them off," Sam groaned.

"Sammy?" Dean stood and put his hands on his brother's shoulders. "Sam?"

"Off."

Dean shook Sam gently. "Sammy, they're off, wake up. Sam?"

Sam's eyes opened. "Off?"

Dean sat on the edge of the bed. "Yeah, off. We're in a hospital."

"Hospital?"

"Yeah, Drew came and got us. Remember? You woke up and they took the bandage off your eye?"

"Oh, yeah. The fungus?"

"They killed the orc fungus and got it all off."

"All?"

"Yeah, Sammy, all. No becoming an orc for you. Sorry."

"Good."

"Don't sound so disappointed." Dean picked up Sam's hand. "Sammy?" He met his brother's eyes. "Can you feel my hand?" Sam smiled and his hand slowly closed around Dean's. "Sam?" Dean pulled his brother against him, Sam's arms went around him. Sam rested his head against Dean's for a moment. "I'm not hugging, you know, I'm making sure your arms work." Dean gave Sam a little squeeze and eased him back down on the bed.

"Yeah, I know." Sam's eyes were sparkling with tears.

"Yeah," Dean said, clearing his throat. _He's going to be okay. Tears not needed, he's going to be okay. Hear me? No tears needed…Damn…No one listens. _He felt a tear trickle down his cheek.

"Thanks, Dean."

Dean shook his head. "No thanks needed, Sammy." He smiled. "As soon as they let you go, what do you say about a vacation? There's a casino west of here—Styx is playing next week."

"No camping?"

Dean frowned at Sam. "I've had enough camping for a lifetime, Sam. I don't care if it's a camp out at the Playboy mansion. I'm not camping out ever again."

"Me either." Sam smiled, the smile grew into a grin, then he chuckled.

"What?"

"You're Aragorn." Sam nearly giggled.

"If you're going to make fun of me…" Dean got off the bed and sat back in the chair, he crossed his arms, frowning at Sam. "You're the orc egg boy."

"Dean the orc killer and his magical sword."

"Orc egg boy."

"Magical sword…" Sam smiled.

Dean smiled back and dropped the guard rail so he could lean against the edge of the bed. Sam shifted so his shoulder was in contact. Dean listened to Sam's breathing, he could still hear a little hitch of pain. _But he's going to be okay. _Dean sighed. _Maybe after the concert we'll head south, check out that haunted lodge on the Oregon coast Sam mentioned. _

"You know, after the concert, we should check out that haunted hotel I told you about. We're not all that far from there."

Dean looked over at Sam. "Would you stop that?"

"Stop what?" Sam smiled.

"Nothing." Dean leaned back in the chair. Sam's hand closed over his, he glanced over at Sam, his brother was still smiling as he closed his eyes. Dean squeezed Sam's hand. "Get some sleep."

"Aragorn," Sam said quietly.

"Orc egg boy."

"Orc killer…"

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

_**The End**_


End file.
